


The Way I Feel For You

by Becassine



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Orgasm, Accidental Stimulation, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood and Injury, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky's Internal Monologuing, Captain America Steve Rogers, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Cliffhangers, Dirty Talk, Engineer Bucky Barnes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Shenanigans, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hugs, Human Disaster Bucky Barnes, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Injury, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mistletoe, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Omega Bucky Barnes, Past Bucky Barnes/Brock Rumlow, Past Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Possessive Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Rebecca Barnes Is a Good Bro, Rimming, Scenting, Shrunkyclunks, Sibling Banter, Sleepovers, Slick squirting, Slow Burn, Snowball Fight, Suit Fittings Turn Sexy, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Wet Dream, sugar Daddy vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 73,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27975304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Becassine/pseuds/Becassine
Summary: Bucky is having a bad day. He's late for his first day working for SI, he's pretty sure Tony Stark is going to fire him, and he's having a terrible hair day.Things start to change once he meets Steve Rogers in an elevator.AKA the Fake Dating A/B/O that nobody asked for.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 1017
Kudos: 825





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's so many notes here. It's going to feel a bit like an Oscar speech so bear with me. 
> 
> Firstly, if you're reading this then thank you! This has been bouncing around in my head for the last couple of months and I decided to bite the bullet and write it. It should be 17 chapters long and I'm going to try and get updates out weekly. It's not going to get explicit for a while - it's marked slow burn for a reason - but hopefully there's enough to make you wail at me on a weekly basis.
> 
> Secondly, there's a few people to thank. A huge thanks to [Max (ixalit)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixalit) for the title which is from [Complicated by Carolyn Dawn Johnson](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/carolyndawnjohnson/complicated.html). 
> 
> Also a huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) and [Tara (oh-i-swear)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_i_swear/pseuds/Oh_i_swear) for reading this through and to the endless others who have cheerleaded me on to actually post this.

Bucky Barnes is having a very bad day. He is already late to his new job and he’s barely been up for two hours. Of course the reason he is late is _because_ he’s only been up for two hours. He didn’t charge his cell phone so it had died overnight and like every other millennial his only alarm clock - and his entire life - is on a piece of technology. So when he woke up to the jarring sound of a police siren going past his apartment block, it had taken him a few seconds to work out that the sun was higher up in the sky than it should be. A panicked look at his watch, a distressed _yelp_ and he had raced to the bathroom.

Now he’s at reception at Stark Tower, picking up his badge which…

“That’s not me.”

He looks down at the badge, looking at the picture of the blond haired man on the front of it. The blond haired man who looks nothing like him and who he doesn’t recognise.

“Oh- But… You’re James Buchanan Barnes, right?”

Bucky yanks his cell out of his pocket. “Yeah. But I sent you this photo- Fuck, my phone’s dead so I can’t- I mean, you can clearly see I don’t look like him and I’m late, I’m _so_ late and it’s my first day-”

The receptionist looks conflicted, able to sense the distress on him as she looks up from her seat behind the gleaming reception desk. Bucky has applied his scent blockers today but he knows he’s done a patchy job, in as much of a rush as he was. He’d realised it as soon as people looked at him with disapproval on the subway and it makes his cheeks burn now. He is such a fucking idiot.

“Look, leave it with me and come back down at lunchtime. This happens sometimes, there’s always new badges being made in this place. I’ve seen your ID so you can have a visitors badge for today although,” she pauses and clicks on the screen, frowning. “You’re in R&D, right? The badge won’t get you everywhere you need to go but it will get you onto the main lab floor on thirty two and there’s bound to be somebody who can accompany you to where you need to get to.”

Bucky nods and takes the badge, thanks tumbling off his lips as he steps back and turns to find the right elevator. Like the receptionist said, there has to be somebody around to help him, right?

Scanning his badge and tapping the floor number on the digital screen, he walks over to the allocated elevator and waits for the doors to open. Once in it, he’s just starting to run his fingers through his hair and try to actually process his internal meltdown - seeing as he has the car to himself - when somebody slips through the closing doors and he straightens up. He is all too aware that he’s probably made the small space reek and he opens his mouth to apologise when the stranger speaks first.

“Are you okay?”

Bucky stares. He doesn’t mean to stare but that is _Steve Rogers_ standing in front of him. And while Bucky has dreamed of meeting the man plenty of times - and those dreams have been X-rated on more than one occasion because Bucky is only fucking human thank you - and had even expected to maybe run into him now he is working for Tony Stark, he’s never expected it to be in an elevator on his first day of work. Especially not whilst he smells sad, is wearing a shirt with a stain on it thanks to an overzealous commuter spilling coffee on him this morning, and his hair isn’t fully dry yet. 

Could this day get any worse? 

Of course it can if he keeps staring and not answering.

“Um. Yeah- Just, rough morning,” Bucky says, wishing his voice sounded a lot less shaky than it does. He can smell Steve’s scent - something close to sandalwood, the smell of rain or sea? - but it’s faint and Bucky suspects that it’s probably residual scent on his clothing seeing as there’s no way that Steve doesn’t smell stronger. He has to be wearing blockers. “It’s my first day, I’m late because my alarm never went off and my badge wasn’t right.”

“Oh.” Steve looks at him nonplussed and Bucky flushes again at the scrutiny, hoping his face isn’t blushing as hotly as it feels. “That sounds pretty bad. Which floor are you going to?”

“Thirty two. I start in R&D today.” Steve’s wince is minute but Bucky catches it anyway and sighs. He wants to just sink into the floor. “You know him… How sympathetic do you think Tony Stark is going to be?”

Steve pauses for a few seconds, just long enough for Bucky to panic that he’s said something inappropriate, before he takes his leather jacket off, holding it out to Bucky. “Put this on.” 

“What?”

“I’ll say I bumped into you and got coffee over you.” He gestures to the stain on the light grey henley Bucky is wearing, woefully inadequate for the weather outside which is best described as wet and icy. “I insisted I went and got you another and then there was the mix-up with the badge that we’ll tell him took longer than it actually did.”

Bucky finds himself pulling the brown leather jacket over his shoulders almost on autopilot, forcibly stopping himself from turning his head to sniff at the collar which has obviously rubbed against Steve’s scent glands. The smell is stronger now, woodsier and more masculine, and it makes him want to _melt_.

“I should probably know what your name is though?”

“Oh.” He smiles, biting down on his lower lip as he looks up through his eyelashes at Steve. “It’s Bucky. I mean, it’s James but I go by Bucky.”

The elevator pings and Steve gives him a reassuring smile before stepping out. “Then let’s go, Bucky.”

*****

“So you’ve resorted to kidnapping my department managers now?” Tony asks, looking over at Steve and twirling the screwdriver he’s holding. He’s covered in oil and his hair looks like he’s been tugging at it. Bucky can sympathise considering he does it too when he’s stressed. Part of the reason he’s got longer hair is because it’s easier to pull it back into a bun and it doesn’t get greasy as quickly.

“I got coffee over him, the least I could do was get him a replacement,” Steve replies patiently. “How well do you function without your coffee? Hey- Jarvis?”

Tony points the screwdriver at the ceiling. “J, don’t answer that. My addiction to caffeine is nobody’s business but my own. I don’t see you all complaining about it when I create amazing technology that stops you from getting killed.”

“Do you want me to say thank you, Tony?” Steve says, lips twitching into a smile.

Bucky isn’t prepared for the dirty look Tony gives Steve - _Iron Man_ gives _Captain America_. Seriously, what is his life? He knows that he’s probably going to be working on some Avengers technology, had to sign about fifty NDAs before starting, but it’s still surreal to actually witness this. Is this going to become normal? Will he be blasé about seeing the Black Widow next?

“Out.” He points the screwdriver towards the exit pointy-end first. “Don’t you dare say that or I’m going to work out how to make your shield play Star Spangled Man.”

Steve laughs - and Christ, is _that_ a sound Bucky wants to put in a box - and holds his hands up. “I’m going, I’m going. Got a briefing with Hill anyway, I just wanted to drop Bucky off seeing as he has a visitor pass and would be stuck outside the lab.” He reaches out and claps a hand on Bucky’s shoulder casually. “See you later, Bucky. Have a great first day.”

It’s only five minutes after that that Bucky realises he’s still wearing Steve’s jacket. And that Tony is looking at him thoughtfully. That… That can’t be good.

*****

The day passes quickly, Bucky getting to know his new co-workers and employees and spending most of the day on his new laptop on the HR site. He isn’t sure why he has to do this when he's pretty sure he’ll be taken away in a black bag for divulging any secrets and his family will never know why, but it takes a few hours to complete the mandatory online certificates before he can even open his email inbox. In between modules, he looks at his phone which has finally charged.

**[Becca: How’s the first day going?]  
** **[Becca: Is it that bad?] **  
**[Becca: Bucky, I know you have to take lunch or get coffee or you’re an actual monster.]** ****

********

********

Grinning at her increasingly annoyed and accurate messages - Bucky _is_ a bitch without his coffee - his fingers fly over the screen as he texts back.

**[Bucky: Phone died, alarm never went off. LATE. Literally saved by Captain America though, will tell you later. Chinese at mine at 7?]**

“Something funny?”

Bucky yelps as he hears Tony’s voice close by - too close by - and drops his phone on reflex, wincing when it hits the polished concrete floor and he hears a loud ‘crack’. His phone isn’t the newest model by any means but he had only gotten it recently and he can’t afford to replace it right now.

“Oh shit- J, get Buckster here a new Starkphone.”

The ceiling speaks. _Speaks_. “Yes, sir. One of Miss Pott’s assistants will bring a boxed one down within the hour. Does Mr Barnes require assistance setting his phone up?”

“Er- No,” Bucky says, looking up at the ceiling at the same time Tony says ‘I hope he fucking doesn’t, he’s supposed to be a genius’. “No, I’m okay. I can do that after work but you don’t need to give me a Starkphone. This isn’t nearly that good.”

“Of course it’s not. I designed the one you’re holding a few years ago and it was when I was arguing with Pepper, not my best work. Anyway, the phone you’re getting isn’t on the market for another month so be a good employee and don’t lose it. Are you saying you don’t have plans after work?” Tony asks, taking a seat on the edge of Bucky’s desk and looking at him with _something_ in his eyes. Glee? Suspicion? Bucky doesn’t even want to try and guess considering how his day has gone so far.

“I mean not solid plans because I wasn’t sure what time people would stay till. But yeah, Chinese food after work,” Bucky replies cautiously.

Tony smiles, presumably at the answer and his discomfort which Bucky knows he’ll probably be able to smell. He isn’t sure what the other man is but at a guess, he’d say Alpha or Omega. Tony Stark is _not_ a calming presence and that is with scent blockers. “With Capsicle?”

“Capsic- You mean Steve?” he asks, confused.

“Steve. You smell of him,” Tony says bluntly, making Bucky blush. “You turned up together this morning, you’re wearing his leather jacket - which he never lets anybody borrow by the way - and he said see you later. Sensible assumption to think he might be the one you’re grabbing Chinese with, don’t you think?”

“He… I…” Bucky stops himself from bumbling into some sort of ridiculous rebuttal which will make it seem as if he’s trying to hide something and instead takes a deep breath to calm himself. “He got coffee down my shirt,” He pulls on one of the lapels of the jacket to show the stain. “I just wanted to not look like a slob on my first day and so he helped me out.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Uh huh,” he says disbelievingly. “And you think Cap’s about to let an Omega with hardly any scent blockers on near his favourite - and let’s not forget, scent-absorbing - jacket unless he likes them?”

Bucky licks his lips, nervous. Should he have taken the jacket off? Fuck, he should have taken the jacket off. It had just smelled so comforting at the time, does smell comforting even now, and it _does_ hide the stain. “He was just being nice.”

“Nice try,” Tony replies, shaking his head. “But Steve’s not all that nice, despite the national icon status. Can be an asshole actually.”

Bucky is about to reply when the ceiling speaks again, making him jump. Is this a regular occurrence? Will the ceiling talk to him too or is this just an Avengers thing? “Sir, you’re late for your appointment with Colonel Rhodes. He says to remind you that you asked for this meeting and he only has thirty minutes before he’s going back to DC.”

The other man sighs and hops off Bucky’s desk. “We’ll talk about this later. Oh and let me know how you like the Starkphone. I don’t know if I like the interface and while design has said that I’m not allowed to make any changes this close to production, I like to keep them on their toes.”

“Er, okay?” He watches Tony’s back as the other man starts walking away, talking to the ceiling. Feeling flustered, he unconsciously turns his head to sniff at Steve’s jacket and feels instantly relaxed by the scent that is layered onto the leather. Date Steve Rogers? Bucky _wishes_.

*****

“So how was your first day?”

The question makes Bucky jump - he has to stop zoning out, Becca would not be impressed at his lack of awareness today - and he turns, only marginally appeased when he sees the tall, blond broadness that is Steve Rogers watching him. Christ the man is good-looking and today has been very overwhelming. Bucky is blaming that on the reason why it takes him a second to register Steve’s presence and smile back at him.

“Pretty good after a rough start,” he admits with a shrug of his shoulders. “Tony seems to like me although he always talks to the ceiling? Will the ceiling talk to me? I didn’t know if it was something I was supposed to know.”

“The ceiling is Jarvis,” Steve explains, smiles as he explains. “He’s the AI that runs the building and he talks mostly to Avengers or Tony’s family and friends. Although he’ll help any employee in an emergency situation in the building. You’ll get orientation on it this week, I’m sure.”

“Right.” Bucky resists the urge to facepalm because of course it’s AI. Bucky has a PhD. He knows how this works. He just hasn’t seen it applied in such a way seeing as he’s never worked anywhere with this sort of technology built in. He flounders for something to say, still stumped as to why Steve is here near the elevators on floor thirty two, looking as if he’s been waiting for Bucky to come out of the secure labs. There’s nothing else up here, after all. “Um- Thanks for coming by to see if my day was good. You didn’t have to.”

Steve chuckles low in his throat. “I mean that wasn’t the only reason I came by,” he replies. “Although I’m glad it was.”

“Oh, you wanted Tony? Right, of course. He hasn’t been around for a few hours,” he replies, feeling his cheeks heat up a little as he internally kicks himself for thinking that Steve could be there for him. Why would he be? “I think he was going up to meet War Machine- Colonel Rhodes.” Jesus, can he sound like any more of an Avengers fanboy? 

“I’m not here to see Tony although you can usually write him off for the afternoon if Rhodey comes to visit.” He shakes his head. “I did come to see you though-”

“Really?” Bucky interrupts, trying not to sound too pleased about it. “I mean that’s unexpected but-”

“My jacket.” Steve reaches out and tugs at the collar of it, a soft smile on his face. “I figure you might be too cold to give it to me tonight but I should probably get your number so I don’t have to lurk around elevators in the morning.”

“Oh, _oh_.” Bucky blushes and he knows, _knows_ his cheeks are bright red and that he’s emanating embarrassment. Which Steve will probably- No, _definitely_ smell. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. “Sure, I mean you can have it now if you- Tony said that you don’t let anybody borrow it.”

“He did?” Steve asks, shaking his head and placing his hand on Bucky’s arm as he starts to shrug it off his shoulders. “No, it’s fine. It’s cold outside and I’m staying here at the Tower tonight. What else did he say?”

“Just that. He seemed to think that we’re, uh, dating.” His voice goes up slightly on the word dating - because apparently he’s destined to act like an awkward teenager this evening - and he tries to modulate it. “That your behaviour maybe wasn’t the most typical for you.”

Steve doesn’t say anything and Bucky scrambles for something to say. Of course Steve wouldn’t want to date him. Steve Rogers can date anybody, _has_ dated beautiful Omega women like Sharon Carter and- Jesus Christ, is Steve even interested in guys? Has he heard that? He’s not sure he has because he knows he’d have remembered the information. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about the man in front of him more than once when in his bedroom alone, and he feels like Steve liking guys would have been tattooed on his brain. Does Tony know something the general public doesn’t? Has Bucky just put his foot in it again? Bucky bites his lip to bite back the whimper because this day is just so bad. So goddamn bad.

“I can hear you thinking from here.” A voice cuts into his thoughts and he flinches, looking into Steve’s eyes guiltily. “I asked what you said?”

Bucky frowns, tries to calm himself down so that Steve doesn’t get drowned by his stressed smell. “I said it was just coffee and that you were being nice because I got coffee down myself,” he replies quickly, eyes flicking down to the floor. “Don’t worry, I didn’t say that we were. I wouldn’t presume to-”

“Bucky, hey, it’s okay.” Steve’s hand touches him on his hand this time and he looks up at him again. They’re almost of a height but Steve is so much broader than he is, wearing a shirt that fits like a second skin. Actually, it looks like it defies the law of stretchiness but Bucky knows he can’t afford to get distracted again. “Tony hears what he wants to and his brain makes impossible mental leaps. But… huh.”

“Huh?” Bucky prompts, taking a moment to appreciate the length of Steve’s eyelashes as the other man looks down. He can smell Steve’s scent a little, stronger than this morning, and he realises with a jolt that it’s his blockers starting to wear off after the day rather than what he can smell on the jacket. It’s delicious.

“It’s nothing,” Steve says with a small smile before easing his phone out of his jeans pocket and handing it over. “Well… No, nothing. Do you want to give me your number?”

Bucky takes the phone and programmes the digits in under ‘Bucky Barnes’, triple-checking that he’s done it properly before hitting save and handing it back. “Doesn’t sound like nothing. Are you sure you don’t want the jacket back now? I can get an Uber or something.”

“No, I don’t want you to get cold.” Steve’s smile grows a little sheepish at the admission and Bucky tries to stop himself from turning to a puddle at the sight of a supersoldier looking unsure of himself. “Look, I don’t know how to best ask this. I can tell you’re not bonded from your- Uh, scent, but are you single?”

“Uhhh…” Bucky nods quickly, feeling excitement rush through his veins at the question. What does that mean? Is Steve interested? In him? Is Bucky’s luck about to change today? Belatedly he realises he hadn’t answered verbally and he nods again for good measure. “Yes. I mean, yeah. It’s kind of hard to date in New York, you know? I live over in Brooklyn and it’s either lawyer or finance types or hipsters.”

Becca likes to laugh at his denial of being a hipster, citing his hair and penchant for skinny jeans, but Bucky has declared that until he wears non-prescription glasses for ‘aesthetics’ and owns plants that he knows the full latin names for, then he isn’t one and she can go fuck herself.

“You live in Brooklyn? Me too. I wasn’t sure if I’d want to go back there when it’s changed so much, but Manhattan’s too-” He gestures with his hands at the building around them. “Big. Too full of skyscrapers, too many people. But… Back onto what I was saying, I just thought that maybe we could mess with Tony a little.”

Bucky feels a laugh bubble up in his throat and he isn’t entirely sure if it’s amusement or panic. “You think I want to fuck with my new boss when I have the job of my dreams? Do you have any idea how hard it is to get hired by Stark Industries?”

“I… No-” Steve’s smile dims at that. “I know you have to be good at what you do. Tony’s always talking about how he only hires the best of the best and if you’re in this department, you’re probably working on our tech. Tony wouldn’t mess about with our safety.”

“I am the best at what I do,” Bucky agrees with a small grin. “But that being said, what did you have in mind?”

Steve’s smile grows wider again and Bucky just about stops himself from sighing happily at the sight of it. “Well, how do you feel about pretending to be my boyfriend?”

And at those five words Bucky’s stomach drops. Through the floor. Through several floors.. Maybe down to the lobby. The garage? A place like this has to have several levels of garage too. Of course Steve doesn't want to date him. Why would Steve want to date _Bucky_? 

“You want to date me? For… Tony?” He tries to sound nonchalant but he’s not sure he manages it, brow furrowed as he asks the obvious question because he doesn’t know what else to ask and because it doesn’t seem right. Why does Steve care about what Tony thought? And why is Bucky the answer to that?

And why hasn’t he said no already?

The other man shakes his head and pauses momentarily before speaking. “I’m always being set up. Nat tries every now and again, Tony sets me up primarily with supermodels and… It’s exhausting to come up with reasons why I can’t go out with them when the real answer is just that I don’t want to.” Bucky refrains from rolling his eyes at supermodels because does Steve really expect for him to be sympathetic about supermodels throwing themselves at him? “But it’s nearly the holiday season. I thought that maybe you could do me a favour and come to a few events with me? It would just give me some breathing room-”

Before Bucky can answer, the elevator opens and Tony walks out looking harried. He does a double-take seeing Steve and Bucky talking and then smiles broadly. “Cap? Back in my domain so soon?" He waggles his eyebrows. "Going out with Bucky tonight? He said he had plans.”

Steve looks over at him and Bucky isn’t sure if it’s his Omega instinct to please or comfort but he moves closer and curls his hand around Steve’s, squeezing lightly. He’ll think about this later, probably curse himself half to death later, but his gut tells him that this is the right thing to do right now even if he and Steve haven’t talked about this and Bucky really isn’t sure that dating Steve - even for appearance’s sake - is a good thing to do. “Yeah, he is.”

“I knew it!” Tony’s smile turns positively smug and he pulls out his phone, fingers already swiping across the screen.. “I knew it! Pepper told me I was wrong but I knew-”

“Okay, Tony,” Steve says, rolling his eyes and pressing the elevator button. All Bucky can focus on is that he hasn’t let go of his hand yet. “We’re going now and you’re not allowed to pepper Bucky with questions tomorrow, okay? Jarvis’ll tell me if you do.”

“I would never. How dare you denigrate my reputation, Rogers. And in front of my new employee too,” he replies, putting his hand over the reactor and pretending to look offended. “Now, get out of my sight so I can work on my special projects in peace as Pepper’s locked me out of my personal labs. I’ll see you both tomorrow, bright and early.”

When Bucky sits back in the back of his Uber several minutes later, he wonders if it was some sort of hallucination. Had that _really_ just happened?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100% more Becca than the last chapter and the guys meet for coffee. Bucky only has a couple of disastrous moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm releasing this a day early because I'm way too enamoured of my new banner for this fic. It's Christmassy and gives me the feels so here's Chapter Two in this particular adventure... 
> 
> Also guys, I am *floored* by the response to this. Thank you so much for all the love and the comments, I really appreciate it and I'm so thrilled you're enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it. 
> 
> Also a huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) and [Tara (oh-i-swear)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_i_swear/pseuds/Oh_i_swear) for offering plenty of helpful suggestions on Chapter 2. Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.

“So you’re fake dating Captain America?” Becca looks at Bucky round-eyed, egg roll forgotten but still half-lifted to her mouth. When she says nothing, Bucky grunts and flops an arm over his eyes to hide her face from view. He is an idiot, an _idiot_ , and he knows his own sister is going to tell him that in no uncertain terms. He loves Becca - deeply - but sometimes she’s still his annoying know-it-all little sister.

“Maybe,” he mumbles from his position lying on the floor. “Is… How stupid was I?”

Becca makes a contemplative noise and then Bucky hears chewing so he assumes she’s remembered the egg roll. “Kinda stupid? It’s not your best idea and considering you’re like, a genius, that says a lot. I mean, he’s met you, right? How did he not notice that you’re into him?”

Bucky frowns and moves his arm away to glare at her. “I’m pretty sure everyone probably smells that way around him, Becca. Besides, most people probably remember to put their blockers on properly which I didn’t today. Fuck… I’m such a mess. And he was so nice and he was literally complaining about being set up with supermodels when Stark came over.”

“So you’re dating him because he has pity dates with supermodels?” Becca’s laugh is bright and it forces a disbelieving snort from Bucky too when he realises how stupid he sounds.

“Yeah, okay. I don’t feel bad for him for that but it just sounded... Lonely,” he explains. He’s not sure how to describe the protectiveness he’d felt for Steve, how it had been an impulse to just do it. “I… It’s like the others are setting him up but he’s obviously not feeling it. I get the feeling he just wants to be a normal guy? He didn’t have to help me today, he didn’t have to lie for me or lend me his fucking amazing jacket or let me bring it home tonight. It just seemed like it was the least I could do.”

“The least you could do… Bucky, you realise you’re a catch, right?” she asks, tone bordering on disbelief. “I know Brock did a number on you this year but you’re hot. I hate that I have to remind you of this considering you’re my older brother and I don’t even want to think about how you look, but it’s not exactly a hardship for Steve to look at you.”

Bucky frowns and sits up, reaching for a wonton in one of the half-empty containers. He doesn’t want to think about Brock and his behaviour. Bucky’s over it - over him at least - but the knock to his self-confidence hasn’t just magically disappeared because it’s been six months. He doesn’t say that though. “If he was interested then he’d have asked me on a date, Becca. You said it yourself, I was interested and even if he didn’t believe my saying that, he would have smelled it, so he’d have known I wouldn’t say no. He’s… Not.” And isn’t that depressing? He takes a bite of his wonton as a consolation prize. It doesn’t feel consoling at all and he makes a noise best described as _hmph_. “I shouldn’t even think about it anyway. He’s an Avenger. He’s the first Avenger.”

“As if any of that matters when you’re fake-dating him anyway.” Becca rolls her eyes at the obvious misery in front of her. “I don’t know, JimJam. Just be careful.”

Bucky looks across at her speculatively, pretty sure he knows where this conversation is going. Becca’s a supportive younger sister generally, but especially when it comes to designation. She’s an Alpha herself but she’s been as involved in Omega rights as Bucky is, never failing to attend a protest, sign a petition or even just speak out in front of bigoted family members on his behalf. Bucky is only too familiar with the strong neroli scent that burns off of her when she’s angry about an injustice. “Are you about to start talking about how there’s Alphas that take advantage of any and all Omegas?”

“Well there are-”

“There are,” Bucky cuts her off quickly before she can build up any sort of indignation about Steve. “But I don’t think Steve Rogers is one of them, do you? Can you imagine if that was the case? It would be all over the news.”

“Talking about the news… What does this mean? Are you going to be his public boyfriend? Mom and dad are… Fuck, Bucky, they’re going to _freak_.” Becca’s eyes grow wide again although this time they’re gleaming with mischief. 

Bucky’s stomach flip flops at the thought of telling his parents about any of this because she’s not wrong, they’ll be overly invested from as soon as they know. It doesn’t even matter that Bucky’s thirty, they've been dropping hints about finding a mate since he was twenty five or so. 

“You know how mom feels about you finding the one...”

“We haven’t talked about it. I guess.” He pushes his fingers through his hair, feeling a flutter in his stomach at the idea of meeting up with Steve to figure out their relationship. Their _fake_ relationship, he tells himself sternly. “I guess we’ll figure it out.”

Becca laughs and reaches for the dipping sauce. “So long as I’m around when he meets the parents. Seriously, Bucky. Don’t you _dare_ do that while I’m awa- Hey! That’s my lo mein!”

Bucky hides a grin and takes a triumphant bite of his stolen food. Becca is as territorial as any other Barnes when it comes to food but it at least allows him to redirect the conversation towards topics that aren’t him dating Steve Rogers.

*****

Bucky is early to meet Steve the next morning. Hair styled to perfection and wearing the trousers that do wonders for his ass with one of his nicer shirts. If he’s going to be a fake boyfriend then he is going to at least look like he could be a match for Steve Rogers. The two of them had texted a bit back and forth the night before, once Bucky had set his new phone up, and they’d arranged to meet at a coffee shop around the corner from the Tower. He gets the feeling that Steve wanted to get away from omnipresent Jarvis and he could understand why.

He isn’t sure what he was going to say. Or wants to say. Becca hadn’t said _don’t_ do it exactly but he isn’t sure he should be using his younger sister as a yardstick for what to do. She is brilliant, sure, but she is also in her twenties and thinks that wearing Crocs is acceptable.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice jolts him out of his thoughts and he looks up, slightly startled. “You found the place okay?”

He nods, making space for Steve to sit next to him and moving his bag to the floor rather than where it had been, a visual reminder that Bucky hadn't wanted a stranger to sit down next to him. He’d grabbed a corner booth when he’d arrived, assuming that Steve would rather be facing away from the morning crowds, but it was NYC and whilst people tended to mind their own business, a table was a table. “Hey! Do you want me to go and grab the coffees?”

Steve shakes his head firmly and it makes Bucky smile a little. “No, no, it’s the least I can do seeing as it’s my fault you’re here so early. What do you want?”

Bucky recites his order - keeping it simple because he doesn’t _need_ the fancy syrups this early in the morning - and a few minutes later they have huge cups of steaming coffee in front of them, are making polite conversation and Bucky is trying not to inhale his drink. Or notice how Steve’s leg is touching his under the table.

He is failing at both. Miserably.

“So what… I’m sorry, I should probably ease into this but my mom says I have zero tact. I’ve never done this before, so what does this whole pretending to date each other mean? I mean, what do you want me to do?” Bucky blurts out, deciding that he should probably take the initiative seeing as they only have an hour to talk before he’s due to be at the Tower. With Tony Stark. And despite his promising Steve to not ask questions, Bucky doesn’t hold out much hope that Tony won’t. 

“Right, right.” Steve looks at his coffee - black, no sugar - for a moment then back at Bucky. “I’ve never done it before either. Truth be told, I think everybody was giving me space and then we got a bit preoccupied with work and I dated Sharon for a while until she transferred to Berlin.”

“You weren’t tempted to do the long-distance thing?” Bucky asks, knowing he’s prying by asking the question but deciding that Steve makes him feel comfortable enough to do so. The gossip websites had speculated for weeks when the news had broken and Sharon had been seen dating a man in Vienna. Not that he’d read them but only because Becca had dissected them enough that he’d felt as if looking at them was completely redundant.

“Not really.” Steve takes a sip of his own coffee and his words are measured when he speaks again. “Sharon’s great, I care about her a lot but she wanted a career and it was always going to take her all over the world.”

Bucky decides to press a bit further, knowing that whilst distance might be a good enough reason for some people, those people didn’t usually have access to private jets or Stark technology. “Didn’t want to take the quinjet for transatlantic booty calls?”

Steve gives him a look of exasperation and Bucky holds his hands up, realising he’s overstepped the mark. “Hey- I’m just trying to find out a bit about you. I’m sorry. You tell me however much you want me to know.”

“Our dating was always going to limit the jobs she could take,” Steve replies, seemingly mollified. “A lot of people would consider her a good kidnapping target anyway without my being involved. She didn’t want to be seen as somebody whose value was linked to how she could influence the Avengers and she… She wanted normality.”

Bucky hums and shakes his head. He can understand the mentality of it and this outcome means that he gets to date Steve - _fake date_ he tells himself sternly - whereas he wouldn’t if Sharon was around but it still seems sad. 

Lonely. 

“So she wasn’t the one? You never considered bonding?”

Steve shakes his head, blue eyes boring into Bucky’s and making him feel like Steve can see into his soul. He has to visibly stop himself from leaning into that gaze, trying to get closer. “We talked about it but I think she knew before I did that we weren’t it for each other. Didn’t stop me from loving her but it was never going to be that and I suppose that’s why it didn’t hurt so much as it should have done when she told me she’d accepted the job in Berlin.”

“Wait- She didn’t tell you about it before?” Bucky asks, confused and slightly aghast. He doesn’t believe in designation stereotypes, not really, but he thinks that it’s rare that an Omega impulsively ditches their long-term partner and skips over to the other side of the world without at least talking about it. Even if they weren’t planning on bonding.

“She _couldn’t_.” Steve runs his fingers through his hair, distracting Bucky for a hot second before he goes right back to ‘oh no she didn’t’ thoughts. There’s more than a few of them and he bites his lip not to say anything when Steve speaks again. “There was a ton of paperwork that stopped her from doing so and I was preoccupied with the Accords at the time.” He smiles suddenly. “It’s cute that you’re offended on my behalf though.”

“It’s- I just think it’s basic decency,” Bucky mutters, knowing his cheeks are probably pink considering they felt hot. _Cute_. He knows that it shouldn’t make him feel as pleased as it does but he wants to preen at the very thought of it. “And nobody since then?”

“Nobody,” Steve confirms, a slight sadness coming through on his scent. Bucky wants to wrap him up in a hug and ease it for him and the depth of that urge makes him pause. It’s not normal to feel that deeply, he’s sure of that. “But you asked about things I’d be expected to do, I didn’t answer that part… There’s a few events coming up for the holiday season, mostly Stark foundation or Avengers things where it would be nice to have a plus one. And maybe you could come by one of the movie nights we have?”

“Movie nights?” Bucky asks, idly wondering how on earth he is going to lay his hands on something suitable for a charity event. Charity events in NYC means black tie and Bucky’s smartest suit probably isn’t up to scratch. “What sort of movie nights?”

“Ah… Well, team nights I guess is a better description?” Steve muses, looking a bit awkward. “They started off as a way to introduce me to movies I’d missed over the years. Each week somebody picks a movie, we order pizza and make snacks and we watch whatever it is. It’s not often the entire team is around but there’s always a few of us on a Friday night.”

“That’s… That’s actually really nice. I mean my mind is pretty blown at the idea of you all sitting there doing something so normal but it’s nice,” Bucky nudges his hand against Steve’s. “And you want me to be there?”

Steve is looking at where their hands were touching and Bucky goes to move his back when Steve’s hand, warm and large, squeezes his. “I didn’t mention that for at least thirty minutes, the conversation focuses on my lack of a love life. It _is_ nice and I enjoy it but… Yeah, it would be nice for you to come if you don’t mind.”

Bucky shakes his head, everything tuned in to the feel of Steve’s hand. “Uh, I don’t mind. I mean I would be giving up my busy Friday night. It’s a jam-packed schedule: ordering food, staying in and watching repeat episodes of Forensic Files or Dateline but I feel like you’d maybe make it worth my while.”

“I’ll try,” Steve says, that infuriatingly attractive smirky-smile making a reappearance. God, Bucky already hates that look. If by hates he meant really, _really_ likes. “We should flesh out a cover story. How we met, know some basic things about each other. What time do you need to be upstairs?”

Bucky tilts his wrist to look at his watch. “Not for another forty five minutes.”

“Perfect.”

*****

“There’s no way I’d approach you in a bar,” Bucky says adamantly, sipping at his second coffee. Which does have the caramel syrup he likes in it because he isn’t so worried about making a good first impression anymore, not since they’ve already argued about the Yankees. Bucky can understand why Steve had felt that way about them originally considering the Dodgers had been in Brooklyn back in the 40s but now he’s been back for a few years? Now there isn’t an excuse. The Mets aren’t an acceptable alternative choice in Bucky’s opinion. “There’s not. I look like me and you look like… _You_. I don’t care that you’re Captain America, you look like some sort of wet dream.”

Steve’s smile curves dangerously and Bucky’s pulse skips a beat. Did he say that? Out loud? Oh _fuck_.

“I do, huh?” 

Bucky doesn’t reply, deciding that another sip of his coffee is a way more sensible move than trying to engage his brain. He wants to expand on it, tell Steve how he’s featured in more than one of Bucky’s wet dreams but he knows that _that_ is way too much information for a first date. Even a fake one. 

Steve continues, obviously realising that Bucky isn’t going to answer his question. “I’m not known for being particularly outgoing. I usually put on a baseball cap and try to blend into my surroundings at a bar.”

Bucky snorts at the idea of nobody noticing Mr. Tall, Blond and Gorgeous with shoulders that wide. “Sure you do. How well does that work for you?” At Steve’s chuckle, he nods. “Okay, what about if somebody was bothering me? You came over to help and we ended up talking.” 

“That… That actually works,” Steve agrees. “We started talking about Brooklyn, exchanged numbers and we’ve seen each other a few times since then?”

Bucky smiles at the normalcy of it. A pang of want goes through him at the idea of it and he forces it down although he’s not sure if something gives him away as Steve’s expression grows more intense for a blink of an eye. “Sure. I’ve taken you to my favorite taco place, you’ve taken me to…”

“The diner near where I grew up. It’s still there and I _will_ take you for breakfast one day,” Steve promises. “I only had breakfast there once in the twenties seeing as we were dirt poor when I was a kid - it was my birthday - but the pancakes still taste as good as I remember. It’s not fancy but I like how people leave me alone in that neighborhood.”

“So we’ve been out more in Brooklyn than anywhere else then,” Bucky says easily. “Which is fine considering I hate midtown. It’s such a tourist trap. Where’s your place in Brooklyn? Is it some original brownstone?” Steve hesitates and Bucky picks up on it, puts down his cup and practically bounces in his seat. “Oh my god it is, isn’t it?”

“It’s in Brooklyn Heights,” Steve admits, wincing at Bucky’s gasp. “Tony bought it for me not long after I got out of the ice. I looked around for somewhere else but it fits me better than anything else I found. It’s not that far from where home was and the neighborhood looks like home once did. What about you?”

“A studio in Williamsburg because as Becca tells me, I’m only one monstera short of a hipster,” Bucky replies easily enough, thinking with fondness to his home. It isn’t huge but it does have large windows and actual wooden floors. Bucky had seen enough tiny windows - or no windows at all in the case of one apartment - and crappy, stained lino whilst looking for an apartment to fall in love with his place as soon as he’d laid eyes on it. “She lives about five minutes away and my parents are down in Park Slope. I- Shit, I didn’t even think about this. I kinda… Told Becca?” Bucky grimaces. “Yesterday was a lot and I wasn’t sure if it was some sort of fever dream for at least an hour after I got home. She was who I was having takeout with. She won’t tell anyone though.”

Steve furrows his brow, Bucky picking up a prickling of unease through his blockers. He’s noticing today that his nose seemed to be particularly sensitive towards Steve’s scent and he wonders if it’s from having Steve’s jacket, feeling comforted by that scent yesterday. “You’re sure?”

“She’s not stupid, she knows that would undermine it,” Bucky smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way. “I came home smelling of you and your jacket. She was always going to ask questions and I’d rather not incriminate some poor unsuspecting Alpha who had nothing to do with it.” He picks up his gym bag and unzips it, pulling out Steve’s jacket. “Talking of, here’s your jacket.”

Steve takes it with a smile. “Thanks, Buck.” And doesn’t that nickname, rumbled in Steve’s deep voice, cause Bucky’s toes to curl in delight? “So what’s your sister like? Older, younger?”

It takes Bucky a moment to answer, feeling a spike of panic that he’d zoned out for longer than he’d meant to on the daydream of Steve saying his voice like that in bed. “Uh, younger by a couple of years. She’s going to be twenty eight in a few months but she acts older than I do sometimes. She’s a sales exec at an advertising firm and she’s brilliant. Super smart, knows all of my deepest and darkest secrets.”

“All of your deepest and darkest secrets?” Bucky rolls his eyes and Steve laughs. “So that makes you thirty?” 

Bucky nods, feeling an odd sense of surprise that Steve hadn’t googled him. Not that a lot of his life is online but he has social media accounts for personal and professional life and, like most millennials, probably has more data out there than he’s completely comfortable with. He knows what the public knows about Steve but it’s remarkably nice and normal to talk like this and take the time to get to know each other.

“Don’t think she’s going to tell you any of them, Rogers.” Bucky knows he’d threaten Becca with every payback he could think of if she even tried to. Bucky has a few stories that he doesn’t really want Steve to know, not when he’s pretty much a clumsy disaster outside of work. “But yeah I’m thirty. I had a party back in March with my friends and family which was pretty fun, so far as any planned gathering with friends and family can be.”

Well, apart from Brock trying to ruin his night but he’d known that was on the cards when the man had turned up uninvited. 

“I haven’t really had a birthday party since coming out of the ice,” Steve admits and Bucky’s head shoots up from his internal pity party about his shitty ex.

“ _What_?” he asks, unsure if he’d heard correctly. Steve’s been out of the ice for seven years by Bucky’s reckoning and there’s no way that can be true. “What do you mean? Isn’t- Your birthday is... “

“Independence Day, yeah, and that’s probably not a fair statement. There’s been parties, they just haven’t felt like my parties. We usually end up going to Tony’s beach house or somewhere he owns and there’s cake, sure, but there’s generally a lot of people there,” Steve explains, looking a bit uncomfortable. Bucky itches to touch him again. “My idea of a perfect birthday is… I’m not even sure. It would probably be a meal with a few friends and back to mine to watch the fireworks on the roof.”

“That sounds nice,” he says, worrying at his lower lip as he thinks about how nice that _does_ sound. It sounds just like his party. Which gives him an idea... “Maybe we can do a half-birthday this year. Make sure you have something a bit more you, huh?”

As soon as he speaks, he grips his coffee tighter as a wave of panic assaults him. Why had he offered to do that? Steve has friends, _real_ friends and here he is offering him some sort of shitty party. But then, shouldn’t his friends have asked what he wanted? Or at least picked up on the fact that he hasn’t been enjoying himself as much as he should be? 

He’s pulled back into reality by the smell of Steve’s scent, strong and happy even through his blockers, his eyes on Bucky and it looks like he was about to say something when his phone trills. He sighs and looks down at it, Bucky able to tell from his expression that it isn’t good news. “Avengers.”

Bucky grabs for his scarf and wraps it around his neck. “Do you need to go?”

“It’s not an Assemble but I do need to go to the Tower for a meeting if you want to come too?” Steve swipes to unlock his phone, firing off a message to somebody before he looks up. He fixes Bucky with a shy-ish smile and Bucky can’t help but be touched by it. “I’ve really enjoyed our coffee this morning though.”

“Me too,” he replies warmly and he means it. “Lead the way, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always, always loved.
> 
> Come talk to (or yell at) me on [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky meets the Avengers at movie night. And maybe, just maybe, there's a little kiss...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freaked myself out seeing how many subscribers this fic had. So hiiiiiii. I hope you enjoy this one because this was when I really started to like the story and think it had legs.
> 
> A huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for reading through this and making some excellent pointers. And the rest of the squad for the endless cheerleading on this. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

The following Friday night, Bucky is starting to wonder if this is a good idea. In hindsight, worrying about it whilst on the express elevator up to the Avengers floor is probably _not_ the best time to think about it. He fidgets and looks in the mirror in the car, pulling at the collar of his jacket. Steve told him that the dress code is always casual - Clint wears pyjamas half the time if Steve is to be believed - and so Bucky is dressed in his second nicest jeans and a t-shirt that manages to skim his body without clinging to it too tightly. His black leather jacket and a pair of sneakers finish the look along with his hair half-up and pulled off his face.

He’s playing with a wisp of it when the door opens with a _dinggg_ and Bucky pauses to take a deep breath before walking out and into a ridiculously oversized foyer. Not what he’s expecting over eighty floors into the Manhattan sky, but then he supposes it _is_ Tony Stark. Bucky has only known the man for two weeks, but he can well believe he lives like this. He’s a genius, sure, but he absolutely deserves his eccentric reputation.

Bucky’s lost in admiring the scenery and trying to discern who he can hear when somebody speaks next to him. 

“So you must be Bucky?”

He whips around quickly to see the Black Widow - _the Black Widow_ his brain screeches at him incoherently - watching him from a couple of feet away and it takes him longer than he would like to answer. 

God, is he going to be like this with all of the Avengers?

It’s fucking embarrassing.

“Err- yeah? That’s- _I’m_ Bucky,” he says, holding out his hand to shake hers. She seems to look at him contemplatively before reaching to grasp his own - why on earth has he stuck his hand out to an assassin - and he’s definitely not surprised that she has a strong grip. “What… I mean, I know who you are but how do you want me to…?”

He trails off, realising he’s babbling and she smirks at the unasked question, causing the tips of his ears to burn. “As much as I’d love to have somebody as cute as you calling me Ms. Romanoff, Natasha’s fine. Steve’s the only one that’s really known as Cap.”

Bucky thinks that the admission is pretty telling, not that he voices that. He doesn’t want to judge the Avengers, but from the little Steve’s said and overhearing Tony over the past couple of weeks, they seem to hold him a little bit apart. Maybe it’s a leadership thing, maybe it’s that Steve’s pretty private but Bucky finds himself wanting to change that.

He’s about to speak again when he smells a familiar scent and turns, smiling when he sees Steve walking towards him. “Hey,” he says, coming up close and touching his hand to Bucky’s hip. “You made it.”

Bucky realises - and _how_ had this not come up before - that they hadn’t talked about PDA. Or any sort of A. They’d spoken and texted intermittently over the past couple of weeks - Bucky trying _not_ to double-text and having to get used to the fact that Steve preferred to speak rather than text - that the topic of how they were going to actually act in front of Steve’s team and friends hadn’t come up.

Steve must scent something because he frowns at Bucky then looks at Natasha. “You okay?”

“Yeah!” Bucky exclaims a little loudly, nodding in reassurance. “I mean, yeah. I… Head rush from the elevator, you know? I was just meeting Natasha.”

Natasha looks between them and whatever she seems to see must not concern her too much because she steps away. “I’ll let you two say hello properly-”

“Nat-”

“What?” She smiles innocently but somehow Bucky suspects that it’s far from innocent from the look Steve throws her way. “We’ve been away all week so I know you’ve not seen him. I’ll tell the others he’s here and see you by the sofas.”

Once she’s walked off, Bucky looks up at Steve. “You’ve been on a mission?” he asks, automatically looking him over for an injury. 

“It was just a diplomatic thing,” Steve reassures him, looking amused and Bucky realises that he was being more obvious than he realised. “We were in Wakanda with King T’Challa.

“As you do,” Bucky replies with a roll of his eyes, pleased when Steve chuckles low in his throat. “Look, I realised we hadn’t spoken about-”

“Cap! Bucky! Say your hellos and get over here so we can start the movie!”

It’s Tony - obviously - and Steve looks over his shoulder, calling back that they’d be a minute. Bucky feels warm when Steve’s eyes land on his, a fluttery pleased sensation in his stomach that he has Steve’s full attention even if it’s only for a second or two. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s good, Steve. I promise,” And it is. He’s nervous but it’s not as if he doesn’t like spending time with Steve. Sitting close to him for two hours sounds like a dream rather than reality. “Come on, I want to see what we’re watching tonight.”

*****

It’s Grease which is… Wow. Bucky’s not sure that Steve needs to actually watch Grease, it’s not what he’d call a cinematic masterpiece, but here they are on one of the sofas watching it. Clint picked the movie, stating that it’s because Rizzo’s hot, and it seems to be some unspoken rule that they watch whatever is suggested.

The sofas are arranged in a giant u-shape, obviously bespoke and expensive, and there are a few arm chairs dotted around. Bucky’s pretty sure that the one sofa cushion he’s sitting on costs more than all of his bedroom furniture combined, but it’s comfortable. Bucky had been introduced to the others before sitting down and he and Steve are on the sofa with Pepper and Tony sitting down at the other end, Natasha and Clint picking arm chairs towards the edges of the room. Sam’s expected at some point, working late at the VA, but - like the rest of the world - he’s seen the movie before and he’s not worried about missing the start.

It’s all going fine, the pink ladies are having their sleepover when Tony’s voice carries above the sound system. It’s a feat considering how loud and surround-y the sound is. “Don’t feel like you two have to sit that far apart for us.”

Bucky looks over at him and he can see that Tony’s eyes are alight with mischief. Bucky looks to Steve to find the other man frowning and he wonders what’s going on. 

Is this some sort of test? 

Tony looks more amused than skeptical and Bucky relaxes, focuses more on Steve.

“You know Steve’s a little private,” Natasha says, fixing Tony with an unreadable look. “Just because most of North America’s seen your PDAs over the years doesn’t mean that he has to follow your example.”

Tony looks pained at the accusation, Pepper lets out a snort of amusement from where she is curled up against him and Steve relaxes minutely next to him when he realises - Bucky assumes - that this isn’t somebody seeing straight through their ruse.

“Y’alright?” Bucky murmurs, nudging his shoulder against Steve’s. 

“Yeah… I’m sorry, he’s just Tony. I should have realised that he’d do this,” Steve murmurs back, reaching for a handful of popcorn. Bucky reaches in at the same time, touches his fingers to the back of Steve’s hands.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, relieved to see that Steve doesn’t immediately pull back or look at him with suspicion. 

It takes a second but he nods slightly and Bucky grins. “Good.”

It’s not straight away - stealth is the name of the game - but a few minutes later, he wriggles across so that his shoulder is pressed against Steve’s, turning his body so that his legs are lengthways on the sofa. A couple of minutes after that he feels Steve’s arm wrap around him and he wants to _melt_. He knows this is for show, he knows it’s about keeping Steve’s friends off his back, but he’s got the best-smelling Alpha in the world next to him, the heat of Steve’s body making Bucky feel just right, and his head goes a little light and dizzy. This close he can smell Steve through his blockers, the smell of sandalwood and something else - sage? Something musky? - making him want to rub up against him, run his lips over his scent gland.

He can’t, he _can’t_ and he tries to focus on the film, knowing that otherwise Steve will be able to smell how much Bucky is getting turned on.

The thought of that makes a spike of anxiety rush through him and Steve’s reaction is instant, hand tightening on his shoulder. “Too much?” he asks and Bucky shakes his head. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” he promises, sliding his own hand over Steve’s thigh. Steve stills and Bucky’s about to ask the same question when he gets a strong scent of something that can only be described as pleased Alpha, so he squeezes lightly and relaxes. 

*****

Clint and Natasha have a rule that introductions need to wait until after the movie finishes. So although Sam arrives on the floor mid-way through, it’s a while before Bucky has a chance to talk to him. Bucky had no idea that he’d ever see the Black Widow mouthing all the words to Beauty School Dropout - potentially a top three highlight of his year - but the entire night has been a bit difficult to comprehend. Mostly because he knows he smells slightly of Steve and that Steve smells slightly of Bucky and it’s doing things to his hindbrain. Namely making him forget that this isn’t actually real. 

Steve doesn’t want to date him and Bucky has to remember that. 

“How’s it going?” Sam asks as he drops into the seat next to him at the bar, Steve having gone off to help Pepper bring in the pizzas before they start with a second film. “This all seeming crazy yet?”

“A little,” Bucky admits with a rueful smile. “Is it that obvious?”

Sam shakes his head, grin widening. It’s a nice smile, infectious. “I remember the first time we tried to do this back in 2014. I hadn’t met the other Avengers yet, just Steve and Nat and this whole setup…. Well, let’s say it’s a little different to what I’m used to at home.”

Bucky snorts. “I know Tony’s my boss and I shouldn’t speak badly of him but I’m not sure anybody’s used to this level of… Extra. Certainly nobody I know anyway,” he replies. “At least you were here because you’re a superhero, I’m only here because…”

“Because Steve invited you which means that you’re welcome here as far as I’m concerned,” Sam finishes for him, picking up his beer to take a sip. Bucky is about to ask what he means when he speaks again. “I’m glad he did and that he’s dating again. It’s been a while but I knew he’d find somebody he liked eventually without any outside help.”

Bucky feels guilty for a second - Sam seems nice and Steve’s only been positive about him - but he keeps the smile on his face. “He’s a great guy,” he replies. “Seems like people have been trying to set him up with the wrong type of people.”

Sam chuckles. “He told you about that, huh?” 

“Can you really see Steve with a supermodel?” he asks, pretty sure he knows what the answer is but wanting to hear it anyway. “I’ve only known him a couple of months but I know that he’s not got a superficial bone in his body.”

“Man, did he tell you that I set him up?” Bucky shakes his head and Sam nods. “Uh huh. Precisely. _I_ didn’t set him up because he’s more capable than half of these people like to think. He needed to find somebody he clicked with. He’s been talking about you and having met you tonight, I’m not surprised the two of you get on.”

Bucky ducks his head a bit at that particular piece of information, busies himself looking at the label of his beer so he doesn’t do something stupid. Still, he can’t help but ask, “He’s talked about me?” 

“It’d be weird if he hadn’t, wouldn’t it?” Sam asks, smile showing that Bucky isn’t being nearly as cool as he wants to be. “He didn’t tell us your life story... A little on how you met, the fact that you’re working for Tony and that the two of you have been hanging out a bit in Brooklyn. Nat’s annoyed that she’s been trying to set him up with people from Manhattan this whole time and all it took was a familiar accent.” 

Bucky raises his eyebrows and his voice is definitely higher than he’d like when he says, “The Black Widow is annoyed with _me_?”

“Not really.” A voice next to his ear makes him jump and Sam laughs heartily as Steve sidles up behind Bucky. Bucky catches that scent of his and has to stop himself from leaning back into Steve’s chest. “She’s just worried she’s losing her touch.”

“You tell her that?” Sam asks and Bucky watches Steve shake his head and chuckle.

“I actually value my life, Sam.” It’s a sentiment Bucky can understand. The Avengers all have their skill sets but when it comes to who is the most terrifying, it has to be the Black Widow. He sighs happily when Steve’s hands lower to squeeze at his shoulders, trying to not think about where else he’d like those hands squeezing. “Now both of you come on. Pizzas are here.”

*****

Sixteen Candles is on and it’s the first time Bucky’s seen it, but he can’t focus, not with Steve a line of heat down his side. Bucky hadn’t hesitated to get comfortable this time, had felt the hitch of Steve’s breath before the other man held him tighter. He knows he’s assuming things, probably too much, but tonight he’s noticed that none of the Avengers are very tactile and he wonders how long it’s been since Steve’s been touched in more than a friendly way.

Not that Bucky can talk. It’s been six months since he’s been in a relationship and he’s not one for one night stands. It’s not even that he can’t find someone, he’s propositioned enough and Bucky knows what he looks like, but he’s not felt the need to. Bucky’s always been a fairly independent Omega and if he’s being honest with himself, it’s only Steve’s scent that’s ever made his head swim like this.

Typical. The one Alpha he’s seriously, _seriously_ attracted to and it’s all for show.

Sometimes Bucky wonders if he’s on a sitcom and people are watching along, laughing at him at home. He has _no_ luck when it comes to his personal life.

The credits roll and he stretches slightly under Steve’s arm, stifling a yawn. He’s warm and content and he doesn’t want to move but he knows he has to. Steve’s arm rubs up and down his arm soothingly before he taps for Bucky to sit up properly, which he does. 

“Ready to go home?” Steve asks and Bucky’s first instinct is to say no, but he nods. 

“Yeah, I guess I should,” Bucky says, trying not to notice how Steve’s t-shirt is too small, barely fitting his shoulders and falling just right on his body. Does he have them tailored? He has to, right? And he still chooses to have them looking _that_ tight. It’s an unfair attack on Bucky’s brain. “Hmm, where did I put my jacket?

“I’ll take you home if you want,” Steve suggests but Bucky responds with a shake of his head as he remembers that Steve had said over text that he’d be at the Tower tonight.

“No need, it’s totally out of your way,” he demurs instead. He’d thought about suggesting that he stay over for appearance’s sake but had decided, for the sake of his sanity, not to suggest it. This common space is neutralised with plugins. Bucky has no such hopes for Steve’s personal space - actually no, that’s not true. He _hopes_ there’s no such thing in Steve’s personal space, but he isn’t ready for that right now, not when he needs to get a grip and have a stern word with himself. “I’ll grab an Uber.”

Steve shakes his head. “I can do better than that,” he says, half-twists on the sofa. “Tony? Is Happy working tonight?”

“Happy?” Bucky asks, confused.

“Tony’s driver,” Steve says, explaining precisely nothing. Bucky pokes him in the side to encourage him to elaborate on it and he chuckles. “It’s a nickname from his boxing days. The guy doesn’t smile all that much.”

Bucky goes to speak, cut off when Tony replies with, “Sure he is, but aren’t you going to give Buckeroo here a ride tonight?” and a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Tony!” Pepper hisses, Bucky hearing an aggrieved “What- _Ow_!” shortly after. He ignores it, grins at Steve instead. Steve who’s gone an interesting shade of pink all the way down under the neckline of his shirt and Bucky wants to see more.

“You can give me a ride another time,” he teases, winks and watches Steve blush pinker. “But I’m not going to say no to being driven home by a driver so long as it’s not putting anyone out. I really could just get an Uber.”

“It’s not. And I’d like to make sure you’re safe,” Steve says, making the butterflies in Bucky’s stomach flutter again. Even after eating all the pizza - enough that his stomach is too full for any stomach fluttering - Bucky can’t help but be affected by his words. 

“Okay then,” he says, untangling his legs with Steve’s and getting to his feet. He doesn’t want to. He wants to think of a reason to watch another movie and slouch against Steve. “Want to walk me down to the lobby though? Make sure I’m not accosted by a supervillain?”

Steve chuckles. “I’d better. Although you’re more likely to trip over and knock yourself out in the elevator,” he points out, getting up once Bucky’s on his feet and steering him to where the other Avengers are before heading into the hallway where the coat cupboard is. Bucky’s not surprised that it’s fancy; a coat stand simply wouldn’t do in a place like this.

He busies himself with saying bye as Steve tracks down his jacket, promising that he’ll be at the next team night next week. He’s shaking Pepper’s hand seeing as it’s rude to hug a bonded Alpha that isn’t yours when she exclaims, “Oh- That’s what I meant to give you. Jarvis, can you email an invitation for next Saturday to James?” 

She smiles at Bucky sunnily. “It’s one of the Stark Foundation charity galas. I know it’s short notice but we’d love to have you if you can make it.”

Bucky freezes but pastes a smile on, isn’t sure what to say because what _can_ he say? ‘I haven’t got a suit’ isn’t really a talking point, especially not here in the domain of Tony ‘worth billions’ Stark. 

“Sounds great, I’ll check my diary and let you know,” he says instead and is glad when Steve comes back towards the bar with his jacket.

He’s helped into it by Steve and with a final wave, they head to the elevator, Steve not needing to press the button because apparently Jarvis runs that too. He opens his mouth to ask whether Steve’s ever worried about Jarvis turning evil and having so much power over their living arrangements but Steve speaks first. 

“Did Pepper just invite you to the charity thing next weekend?” When Bucky nods, he frowns. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I know it’s short notice and you probably have plans already.”

“I want to come,” Bucky blurts out, realises how that sounds and blushes. “Er, I mean I’d love to come. Oh god, _attend_. I’d like to attend. I thought you wanted company at the parties?”

Steve looks at him, eyes gleaming with amusement, and Bucky tries to will the red in his cheeks down. He knows it’s a lost cause and he probably looks like a tomato but he feigns nonchalance, tries to act like he’s not bothered. “So, uh, do you want me there?”

“Of course,” Steve replies, guiding him into the elevator with a hand to his lower back. It rests there for a few moments once the doors close until Steve seems to remember himself and Bucky wishes for it back, feeling the ghost of that handprint all the way through his shirt and jacket. “Thanks for coming tonight, Buck. Everybody loved you, although I never doubted that they would.”

Bucky smiles, ducks his head a little before peeking up at Steve. “Yeah? It’s… A bit overwhelming. I mean you’re literal superheroes… I’m pretty sure I had a Captain America shirt when you came out of the ice-” It occurs to him what he’s said, admitted, without coercion, and he shakes his head fast. “No, no no _no_ , I did _not_ just admit that.”

He’s relieved and mortified when Steve laughs, claps a hand to his chest. “Oh my god. That’s the best thing I’ve heard all week-”

“You can’t tell the others. I mean it, Steve. Otherwise I’ll…” Bucky flounders, is taken aback slightly by the sight of how red Steve’s lips are. He speaks without thinking, blurting out, “I’ll tell them you’re a terrible kisser.”

The laughing stops and there’s tension. It’s not _bad_ tension, not when Steve’s looking at him that intently but Bucky’s throat feels suddenly dry. 

“Uh- Bad joke?” he questions and Steve shakes his head.

“I suppose we haven’t done that yet, huh?” he suggests and Bucky doesn’t think he’s imagining it when Steve suddenly seems closer. He thanks every deity he knows for the scent blockers he’s wearing even if he thinks Steve picks up on his scent in the same way he picks up on Steve’s.

“Bucky?”

“Hmm?” He looks up, realises he’s zoned out. “Yeah?”

“I was going to ask if I could kiss you,” Steve says, _repeats_ , and Bucky’s mouth drops open. “Only it would probably be better for our first kiss not to be in front of others-”

“No. I mean yes. Uh, yes. That’s, um-” He’s cut off when Steve steps closer and kisses him, lips pressing against his softly. Bucky feels a jolt of arousal flood through his system and gasps, kissing back more than he knows he should. He can smell Steve properly this close, the muskiness of his scent laced with an earthiness he can’t properly place and he feels himself start to get slick. Steve smells like the outdoors, like everything Bucky _wants_ to smell and it’s like cold water to the face when his brain kicks in and tells him that this is fake. And that he’s kissing Steve in a totally inappropriate way.

He stumbles back, trips over his feet and it’s only Steve hauling him up that stops him crumpling. “Uh, sorry?” he hazards, very aware of Steve’s hands on his sides. “I- That was-”

The elevator pings as it reaches the lobby and Bucky looks out at the doors before looking back at Steve. Steve’s looking at him with that intent look again and Bucky doesn’t know what it means. Is he going to tell him off for being inappropriate? 

“I better- That’s Tony’s guy, right?” he asks, pointing to where a heavyset man is waiting in the lobby, looking straight towards them. At this time of night, there’s nobody else there save for the night receptionist so it’s a fair enough assumption.

Steve turns his head but doesn’t let go of Bucky until he realises that it is in fact Happy. Who, Bucky decides, doesn’t look particularly grumpy. Bucky doesn’t miss the squeeze before Steve’s hands disappear from his body and he clenches his teeth together so that he doesn’t ask him to do it again.

“Yeah, that’s Happy. I’ll walk you to the car-”

“There’s no need, not when it’s cold outside,” Bucky promises, giving him a quick smile. “I… Had a really good time tonight. It was fun to hang out.”

Steve smiles back at him and walks him out anyway, steering him out of the elevator with that hand on his back again. There’s small talk as he introduces Bucky to Happy but Bucky can’t concentrate, not with Steve touching him. He’s been fine up to now but Steve’s lips on his have fired something in his blood, stirred something in his soul. It takes a great deal of willpower to raise his eyes to Steve’s as they approach the car, to smile and pretend like he doesn’t have a huge crush on him.

When Steve leans in and kisses his cheek, murmurs, “Night, Buck,” Bucky wants to cry. Steve _could_ have kissed him on the lips, could have repeated that mind-altering moment in the elevator but he chose not to. Bucky tells himself once again that this is what he signed up to, that he’s going to have to get used to this.

He’s also going to have to get a suit. But that’s tomorrow Bucky’s problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? Come tell me! Kudos and comments are always, always loved.
> 
> Come talk to (or yell at) me on [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/)! And let me know if you want an extra chapter on Christmas Day or whether I should hold off until next Tuesday.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky deals with the emotional fallout of kissing Steve. Oh, and he gets himself a suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's not Christmas Day but I figured people would be too busy eating huge, enormous dinners to actually want this. Plus you had some Christmas Stucky in the form of ['I remember when you were here'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28266495). I hope you all had a lovely day and spent it however you wanted to. 2020 has been a weird old year but I wish you all the best for 2021.
> 
> As usual, a huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for offering plenty of helpful suggestions on Chapter 4. Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.
> 
> Read on for Sugar Daddy Steve.... In Bucky's brain at least.

**[Bucky: I need to get a suit]**   
**[Bucky: Like a good one]**

**[Becca: Why?]**

**[Bucky: Because I’d look terrible if I turned up in a Cinderella ballgown to a Stark gala]**

**[Becca: You have the hair for it]**

**[Bucky: I can’t help that my hair is so fabulous. Anyway, are you helping or not?]**   
**[Bucky: No, I’m being serious - please help]**

“Why are you going to a Stark gala?”

Bucky puts Becca on speakerphone as he gets himself ready, slapping on some moisturiser and focusing on his hair. He’s got plenty of time to get into the office - even though he doesn’t actually need to be there on a Saturday. His brain feels full of static and he knows from experience that throwing himself into work and focusing on nothing but experimental nanotechnology will help to quieten it down.

“Because Pepper invited me and Steve wants me there,” Bucky replies, frowning when his hair frizzes instead of curls. He shapes it again, letting the lock fall. “But it’s really fancy. I looked up pictures from last year online and we’re talking black tie.”

Becca snorts. “You don’t own anything that resembles black tie.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware,” he replies, sarcasm heavily apparent. “But I can rent black tie and look good in it. I know people will be there with like, bespoke suits or whatever, but I’m not blowing a load of cash on that.”

There’s silence then, “You looked that up, didn’t you?”

“Yup,” Bucky confirms, not wanting to admit how much time he’d spent googling that. He’d gone down a black hole of options and all of them had multi-thousand dollar price tags. If he had more time, he might have been able to get something done by a tailor, but time isn’t on his side. “So do you want to meet me later?”

“Sure,” Bucky can hear her eating something - chips? - and he wrinkles his nose.

“Are you eating whilst you’re on the phone?” he asks. “Gross.”

“You’re gross,” Becca fires back. “How was last night?”

“It was good,” he replies, hearing the tentative tone and wincing. “No, it _was_ good. I enjoyed it, it was really chilled out which was surprising. The others seemed to like me and people bought that we’re a couple, I think. The Black Widow - sorry, _Natasha_ \- kept staring at me but I’m not sure whether she was only doing that because she realised it freaks me out.”

“Well, she _is_ terrifying,” Becca agreed. “So why do you sound like a kicked puppy?”

Bucky sighs. “I don’t.”

“Do.”

“ _Don’t_.”

“ _Do_.”

“Don- No, I’m not doing this, Becs. I’m thirty,” he groans, picking up his phone as he walks back into the bedroom to get changed. “I’m… Just really attracted to him but I’ll get used to it.”

“Bucky-”

“It’ll be fine,” he says quickly, cutting off the inevitable protest. He knows he should probably cut things short or at least explain to Steve that he’s attracted to him, but he also doesn’t want to. He likes spending time with Steve, he knows Steve likes spending time with him and… And he’s really _hot_. Getting to stare at that and engage in some PDA is a bonus. “I haven’t spent any real time with an Alpha outside of the family since Brock. Need to get my instincts under control, you know?”

“I still think this isn’t a great idea,” Becca points out. “How is this going to end well for you?” 

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll meet somebody through all these parties,” Bucky replies flippantly, feeling his stomach flip sourly at the thought. Maybe Steve would meet somebody? Maybe this would be over before Christmas when he inevitably met somebody more glamorous and suitable than Bucky. “Besides, holiday parties and free alcohol. Better than me sitting home alone, right?”

Becca sighs loudly. “You know, I know you’re my older brother but sometimes you’re incredibly-”

A message alert comes through and he tunes out Becca as he flips to the screen. It’s Steve.

**[Steve: Would you like to get together for lunch?]**

Bucky can’t help the grin that splits across his face.

**[Bucky: Sure. Where and when?]**

“Becca, I’m going to have to go,” he interrupts, eyeing his wardrobe more critically before and selecting a henley that makes his shoulders look broader than they actually are. “I’ve got to get ready or I’m going to be late.”

“Late to where?” she asks suspiciously, causing Bucky to grin at the phone. 

“Lunch with Steve,” he says proudly, stomach fluttering a bit with excitement as another text comes through.

**[Steve: Is lunch at the Tower okay? I’m on duty but I’ll order something up to my apartment.]**

**[Bucky: Okay. I’ll be there in about thirty if there’s no problems on the M]**

“I hope you know what you’re doing, JimJam,” Becca’s saying as Bucky shimmies into the shirt and reaches for his scent blockers. He’s not sure that he _is_ sure what he’s doing; Steve’s apartment is bound to smell of him and he’s not sure that his hindbrain can deal with that. He debates for all of two seconds before reaching for different underwear, a pair that absorbs excess slick. “Bucky, are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Bucky replies, pulling his underwear off and pulling the others up. “I’ll call you about going for a tux? I was thinking Monday after work? I think I’ve found a place that will work.”

“Sure,” she replies, giggles which makes Bucky look at his phone suspiciously. “Can’t wait to see you look like a penguin.”

Bucky can’t help but smile even whilst he shakes his head. “I’m going to rock the shit out of that suit even if it is a rental. I’ll see you on Monday, Becs.”

******

Bucky’s overwhelmed as soon as he gets through the door. Steve’s scent permeates the air and he wants to roll all over the sofa when he sits on it, wrap himself in that woodsy, deep scent that is _Steve_. Distantly, he’s glad that he put on the slick-absorbing underwear because he’s pretty sure he’d be making a mess of his jeans otherwise.

The apartment itself is much what he expected, based on the areas of the tower he’s been to so far. It’s modern and large, with floor to ceiling windows and an aesthetic that screams ‘rich’. He doesn’t think that Steve was all that involved in the decoration of the place, noting the small collection of war books and charcoal sketches over by a desk. They seem out of place in the space and Bucky smiles a little sadly as he realises that the corner is a nook Steve’s carved out for himself. It’s the only place that feels like his in this giant gleaming apartment.

Bucky chatters about his sister, about how he’s planning to go down to work after this lunch. Steve asks if he’s supposed to work on a Saturday and Bucky shrugs, points out that as a Department Head there’s always some work to do. It’s a good way to catch up on the paperwork of actual _management_. Bucky loves working with younger engineers, seeing the results of the genius. But he couldn’t really give a damn about timesheets and productivity reports. Even if it’s digital.

He’s glad it’s not awkward after the night before. Neither of them mention the kiss or how Bucky had probably responded too keenly, had fallen over his own feet with how overcome he was by it. It still stings slightly that Steve kissed him on the cheek but he knows that’s just his stupid crush talking.

They’re eating their lunch - burgers - when Steve mentions the gala.

“So are you all set for Saturday?” he asks, picks up his second burger to eat with no reluctance. Bucky’s jealous of his metabolism even if he knows there’s no way of matching it. It’s not as if he does bad for himself. He’s taller and broader than most Omegas, although that in itself puts some people off. They want a five foot five twink, not the near six foot, leanly muscled twunk that he is thanks to the hours he puts in at the gym. “I’ll come pick you up in a car around six?”

“Six works. Are you going to be at your place in Brooklyn beforehand?” Bucky asks, picking up a fry and eating it. He wonders if his house is like this apartment, stylised and impersonal. 

Steve nods, chews his mouthful - mouth thankfully closed - before answering. “Yeah… That’s what I’m planning on. I’m only here today because we heard on the grapevine that something might happen and so we wanted a skeleton staff around in case we need to mobilise quickly. The threat of terrorist attacks always rises around the holiday period.”

“That’s… Fuck, that’s depressing to think about. What’s your home like?” Bucky asks, too curious not to ask and not really wanting to talk about terrorism on a Saturday. “I’m guessing it’s super secure even if it looks like your regular brownstone.”

“Right. It’s full of technology that keeps it as safe as it can be,” Steve agrees, takes a moment to think through his answer. “It’s more of a home than this place is. I appreciate that Tony offers the space so freely, he’s incredibly generous, but this is more like a permanent hotel room for me. I don’t use it that often-”

Bucky swallows weakly. If this is a place that is barely used then he’s really not sure he’ll survive being at Steve’s actual home. If he’s ever invited there. The scents are distracting him as it is, making him want to touch everything and rub his own scent glands against the fabrics to self-soothe. 

“-But it’s pretty nice. I’ve renovated it so that it’s more to my taste- Like the bathroom. There was no way I was going to fit in the original tub-”

Bucky tries resolutely not to imagine Steve naked and covered in suds. 

He fails.

“-So I changed it around so I could have a large soaker tub in there. And other than that I’ve restored some of the original features and painted and replaced the kitchen. I know that open plan is all the rage-” Steve gestures to the kitchen behind them. “But I prefer having a degree of separation rather than one large space so it’s cosier. It’s more what I’m used to, I didn’t have a lot of space growing up.”

Bucky smiles at that and interjects, “Then you’d like mine. It’s an expensive shoebox of a place but I liked the light when I went to view it.”

“I’m sure I would,” Steve smiles at him and Bucky gets a brief waft of happy Alpha. He’s learning the different notes and facets of Steve and he’s not yet found any scent he finds off-putting. “I’d ask to come up and see it on Saturday but I’m not sure we’ll have time.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, waves a hand dismissively and tries not to think about how much he’d like Steve in his space. Or how much he’d like to invite him up. “I’m going to be stressing about dressing nicely. The last thing I need is to worry about cleaning… Not that it’s not clean. Just… A little messy when I’m getting ready for something, you know?”

“Why would you stress about dressing nicely? You always look nice.”

Bucky smiles shyly at the compliment, distracts himself from daydreams of Steve by pushing his hair back behind his ear. It’s not like he’s gone out of his way to dress nicely for Steve… No, that’s a lie. He’s absolutely gone out of his way to dress nicely after their disastrous first meeting. “It’s not like I go to galas on the reg, Steve. I’m an engineer,” he points out. “But I’m going to go look at suits on Monday with Becca, rent something appropriate.”

Steve frowns. “You don’t have a tux?” he asks and Bucky must bristle because he follows it up with a, “No, no- That didn’t come out right, Bucky, I’m sorry. I… You never said anything about it last night.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything about it _ever_ ,” Bucky sighs. “I never had a reason to have a nice suit but it’s not a big deal. I found a place down by Bowery that has some good reviews and apparently stocks some high end designers, I’m going to go there after work.”

“You shouldn’t have to rent a tux-” Steve starts and Bucky shakes his head.

“Of course I’m renting one. Are you insane? Getting something fitted in less than a week costs a small fortune,” he replies, placing his hand on top of Steve’s and squeezing lightly to soothe him. He’s comfortable touching Steve now even if it makes his own instincts go a little haywire. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Steve looks at him doubtfully and Bucky smiles winningly. “Now, do you want these extra fries?”

Turns out that food works as a distraction technique on Steve too.

*****

Steve messages him later in the day, asking him to meet up after he’s finished with whatever work he’s doing. Bucky wonders if he should be doing this, meeting Steve when he doesn’t need to, but he can’t and won’t deny that he’s drawn to the man and that spending _any_ time with him is on par with one of those really good chocolate croissants from his favourite bakery.

Besides, what is he going to do at home? Watch queued up episodes of The First 48? He supposes that he could call a couple of friends and go out - seeing as it’s a Saturday night - but he doesn’t really _want_ to. Bucky prefers catching up over a couple of glasses of wine midweek with friends, he doesn’t really enjoy a weekend bender that leaves him groggy and regretful on a Sunday.

When he gets to the address Steve sent him, he frowns. It’s an unassuming apartment building a few blocks from the Tower, but it gives nothing away as to why he’s here. He reads the address again, makes sure he’s correct, and he’s about to hit the button to call Steve when a, “Hey!” makes him turn.

It’s Steve looking delighted with himself. Bucky’s toes curl in his shoes to stop himself from reaching for the man. 

“Hey. yourself. What is all this?” he asks instead, gesturing to the door behind them. He’s not expecting for Steve to tap a finger to the side of his nose and lean past him to press on a buzzer, announce himself into the intercom when whoever it is on the other side picks up.

The door buzzes. They go in and take the elevator up to the seventh floor.

Bucky’s skin is buzzing with anticipation over what this is. He wonders if he should be nervous for all of a millisecond before discarding the thought. He knows that Steve wouldn’t put him in danger. The man opposite him would seriously injure himself before letting anybody get hurt.

“Steven,” comes a voice Bucky doesn’t know. A door at the end of the corridor is open and a small man is standing there, large spectacles giving him the look of an owl. He ushers the two of them inside, making small talk with Steve, and Bucky finds himself in a tailor’s workshop.

_A tailor’s workshop_.

He swings around to face Steve, able to smell how pleased he is with himself before he sees the look of slightly smug glee. “What’s all this, Steve?” he asks as he surveys their surroundings, takes into account the expensive fabrics and swatches on display. “You’re paying for my clothes now?”

He’s not expecting the shift in scent, permeating through the blockers, and he raises an eyebrow at it. He would swear it’s arousal but Steve’s blushing so perhaps it’s embarrassment instead? Or maybe- Oh god. 

“Oh, I mean… You don’t have to pay for them,” he says quickly. “I _have_ money-”

“Of course you do,” Steve interrupts, shaking his head. “But _I’m_ paying for this, Bucky. I’m the reason you need a suit.”

Bucky debates protesting it but Steve isn’t exactly wrong. Bucky hasn’t needed anything this smart seeing as none of his close friends have gotten married yet- Well, Darcy has but she eloped to the Bahamas to avoid her batshit insane family so it doesn’t count. Still, it’ll be nice to have a tux for when that inevitably happens and Bucky can tell from being in this place for five minutes that it’s going to be sharp as hell. 

“Okay,” he replies and determinedly doesn’t think about how this is playing into every sugar daddy fantasy he’s ever had. He’s really glad he put on the underwear he did this morning and he makes a note to buy a few more pairs to get through the next few months. “Okay, you can pay for it.”

“Good,” Steve replies, his gaze growing more intent. Bucky reaches for his hair, runs his fingers through it to check that there isn’t anything stuck in it because Steve is staring and what does that mean? “Now I really should introduce you to Gustave. He’s the best tailor around, puts up with me and Tony.”

“I’m charmed,” Gustave cuts in, eyes twinkling with amusement. “One of you is much easier to deal with and I’ll leave you to guess which of you that is. However, it’s a pleasure to meet you- Bucky, was it?”

“Bucky,” Bucky replies easily, smiling back at the man. He looks around at the room and gestures to the tables strewn with patterns, the bolts of fabric leaning up against the wall. It dawns on him then and there, that this isn’t just having a suit _altered_. This will be a one of a kind. He feels nervous when he asks, “Uh, how do you want me?”

There’s a cough from behind him and Bucky flushes scarlet as he realises what he’s said. He doesn’t look away from Gustave even though that variation in Steve’s scent hits his nose again and Bucky wants to know for sure what it means.

“I need to take your measurements first and then we’ll have a look at the fabrics. Once you’ve picked something you like, we’ll talk through all the different options available. You need this on Friday, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky replies, realising the enormity of work that is going to go into this. This is going to be _expensive_ and an excited thrill goes through him at the idea that Steve is paying for him to look like some sort of high-class eye candy. “Yeah, the gala’s on Saturday but if it’s too much work, I’m sure I’ll fit into something-”

Gustave tsks under his breath and leads him to step up onto a small dais. “That would be an insult to my work,” he says softly, turning Bucky around until his eyes are on Steve. Steve’s taken a seat in one of the armchairs and is watching him with an emotion Bucky can’t identify. He only breaks eye contact when Gustave returns with a tape measure slung over his shoulder, paper and pen in hand and swallows hard, trying to dispel the idea that any of this is anything more than a fairytale. “You have wonderful proportions and we’ll only show those off to perfection.”

“Okay,” Bucky replies, flushing a little at the compliment and looking at the floor. He risks a peek at Steve who is still watching him. “Steve, is- I mean, you’re paying for this. Do you, uh, want any input?”

Steve stares at him for a beat before shaking his head. “It’s your suit,” he replies, settles back in his chair and crosses his legs so his ankle is resting across his knee. “You can have whatever you want.”

Bucky isn’t sure if his knees are going to hold up. Steve’s exuding this… _Energy_ that just makes him want to fall to the floor.

“I- Uh,” Bucky’s lost for words and Gustave seems to notice, reaches to take Bucky’s jacket from him and starts to get to work. Bucky’s eyes are locked onto Steve’s as he’s moved and measured and he finds he can’t look away. He doesn’t want to look away. Steve looks pensive and yet completely in control which only serves to fluster Bucky. What does he _want_?

Part of him wonders if Steve _does_ like him like that, whether he’s overthinking everything. But then the memory of the night before crashes over him and his heart thumps loudly in his chest as his rational brain finally kicks in and douses his dreams as effectively as a raincloud.

Of course he’s going to be here when he’s dropping several thousand dollars on a suit. A suit that he’s having to buy because Bucky doesn’t fucking have one that’s appropriate even though he’s thirty years old. Bucky’s not sure what Steve’s getting out of this but knows that he definitely should have picked somebody more appropriate to be his fake boyfriend.

He feels a swoop of sadness and part of him wants to turn tail and flee the apartment. He can’t do this. He can’t.

“Bucky?”

Steve’s voice brings him back to himself and he startles, nearly kneeing Gustave from where he’s on his knees measuring along Bucky’s inseam with careful hands. The pad of paper next to him is full of numbers and Bucky isn’t sure how long he zoned out for.

“Oh shit- Sorry, man,” he apologises, cringes at the idea that Gustave could have felt his dick filling in his pants from his stare-off with Steve.

Steve’s eyes are still on him and he’s not smiling. “Where was your head at?” he asks, seeming to choose his words carefully. “You got all… Distant.”

“Work,” he blurts, lies before he catches himself and shakes his head. “Um, no. That’s not… Sorry, I panicked. I was just thinking that I’m costing you a fortune.”

Steve shrugs effortlessly. “You’re worth it.” 

“...And we’re done. Now if you’d like to accompany me over here…” Bucky’s saved from having to reply, practically choking on his own air, as Gustave leads him over to the table where the fabric books are resting. 

It’s going to be a _long_ evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is the gala... 
> 
> Comments and kudos, as always, are absolute love (and completely play into my praise kink so there's that).
> 
> Come talk to (or yell at) me about this on [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/)!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Saturday night and the gala is here. Can Bucky get through an entire evening without having an existential crisis?
> 
> Spoiler: no, no he cannot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little treat to ring out 2020! It's been a hell of a year - please bring some normalcy 2021 - but I've met some wonderful people in this fandom. Seeing as I'm not celebrating at a black tie affair but instead home alone with a bottle of wine, let's live vicariously through Stucky instead...
> 
> As usual, a huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for offering plenty of helpful suggestions on Chapter 5. Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.

By the time Saturday rolls around, Bucky is jittery with nerves and anticipation. It’s been a long week, with one of his department’s projects receiving further funding and moving into testing and another stalling. He’s been pulling long days and longer nights and trying to fit his life around his work. It’s not something he minds doing - Bucky _loves_ his work - but he’s had other things on his mind.

Steve Rogers-shaped things.

Steve’s been on a mission for most of the week. Whatever the job, it’s something that obviously requires a communications blackout seeing as he only receives a message back on Friday once Steve checks in to say he's home. Bucky knows it’s his job, knows that Steve will probably be fine, but he had nevertheless found himself tuning into the news more than normal, desperate to see if there was anything amiss. 

On the other hand, his suit is _amazing_. He goes for fittings during the week, stunned that in six short days the sketches and panels of fabric turn into a veritable piece of art. The tuxedo is a soft black velvet jacket paired with black trousers, the fit exquisite. It clings to Bucky’s frame like nothing else he owns ever has and Bucky gets a thrill knowing that it _is_ made for him. His shoulders are broad, his waist is narrow and the velvet is tactile and slippery under his fingertips. He _loves_ it.

When his buzzer goes at six, Bucky jumps and curses at himself. He’s been ready for a while and has spent the spare time fussing about with his hair. It’s slicked back tonight and he’s clean-shaven, wearing his fancy blockers that mute his scent rather than mask it outright.

He decides not to invite Steve up, calling that he’ll be right down before picking up what he needs for the evening. He fires off a quick text to Becca to let her know he’s on his way before locking up and heading to the stairs.

He’s seen pictures of Steve in a suit, googled enough of them, but he’s not prepared for the sight as he steps outside. There’s a limousine outside his building. A fucking limo. And Steve, instead of sitting inside it waiting, is standing outside with his eyes on Bucky. It’s like every Hollywood film he’s ever seen come to life. He feels like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

Bucky gets his shit together enough to walk down the stairs without falling and cracking his head open but blushes when Steve tells him, “You look good, Bucky.”

“You think?” he asks, stroking at the sleeve of his jacket looking for reassurance. “I- Uh, Gustave was great. He did such a good job and helped me pick everything out. Do you like it? Is the velvet too much?”

Steve nods, steps forward to stroke his own hand down Bucky’s arm. Bucky tries to hide the shiver of pleasure but he isn’t sure he manages it though he does manage to not sway towards Steve. 

“It’s great,” Steve murmurs. “You look perfect.”

Bucky’s filter doesn’t seem to work when he says, “You’re perfect,” and he blushes fiercely as his brain catches up. “I mean, you look perfect too. Really, um, really good-”

Steve’s chuckle shuts him up and he’s unprepared when Steve leans in to kiss him on the cheek, that familiar smell of musk and sage making him feel light-headed. “Shall we get going? While we both look perfect?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at the sass but moves when Steve steps away and opens the car door for him, slipping past and into the fancy interior of the car. He settles down on the soft leather seat in the limousine and wonders what he’s let himself in for.

  


* * *

  


An hour later, he realises two things. One: he greatly dislikes paparazzi photos with their bright flashing lenses and two: that rich people parties are really kind of boring but that there’s plenty of champagne. Their entrance had been noted by the press, with Steve’s arm touching lightly on his back and Bucky smiling up at Steve as they walked up the carpet and into the venue. It wasn’t something they’d really discussed but it felt right and Bucky’s happy that Steve feels comfortable enough to be tactile. 

He needs the reassurance because he’s so out of his comfort zone right now.

He’s also really fucking glad that he locked down his social media a couple of weeks before and trimmed down his friends list to those he could trust not to blab to the media. It’s not that he posts a lot of photos on Instagram, certainly nothing salacious, but he knows from Becca’s obsession that people read into _everything_ and he has no doubts that people are going to be curious about Steve Rogers - Captain America - dating a male Omega. People are looking at the two of them here, albeit politely, and he’s sure that it’s being discussed.

They’ve been socialising for a little over an hour. Bucky has debated leaving to go hide in the bathroom at least four times but Steve’s presence at his side and the way that he includes Bucky in introductions and conversations is calming. This really isn’t his scene and Bucky’s pretty sure that Steve’s clued in on it by the way his hand hasn’t really left off from touching Bucky all night. 

Maybe it’s the velvet. Bucky can’t blame him for that.

“Steve, you made it!” Bucky glances over to his left to notice Pepper bearing down on them, a tall brunette woman with short hair following in her wake. Pepper’s tall and slim in a green slinky dress, the sequins making her look like a glittering emerald as the crowd makes way for her. Bucky clocks the diamonds around her neck and in her ears, a visual sign that she’s bonded to the richest man here. “And James, I love your suit! The two of you make quite the striking couple. I’m sure you’ll make headlines tomorrow.”

Bucky blushes and is glad when Steve says, “Thanks Pepper. You look wonderful too,” on behalf of both of them, feeling shy in a way that he wasn’t on Friday when it was just the small group of Avengers on the communal floor. 

“So you’re the famous James. Or is it Bucky?” Bucky looks up at the brunette who is observing him with a wry smile and he smiles back, wondering who she is. 

“This is Maria Hill, Bucky. She works for SI, is our Head of Operations for the Avengers.” Steve steps in and makes the introduction. “And whatever she tells you about me is completely untrue.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?” Bucky asks, glad that Steve’s broken the ice as it bolsters his confidence, makes him realise that Steve considers this person more of a friend than some of the others they’ve spoken to. “James is my name but I’m known as Bucky to most. So you’re the one that tries to bring him home in one piece?”

“When he follows instructions,” Maria admits, her smile growing a little sharper at Steve’s _‘hey!’_. She takes a sip of her drink and continues on, “I’m sorry about this week, Bucky. It was a last minute mission and I know Steve wanted to tell you what was going on. We have to have protocols in place around relationships and access to information. Once you’ve been together for a while longer, we can revisit it.”

“Oh,” Bucky thinks about how it _won’t_ be any of his business in a few months' time. Steve will find somebody else to share his mission status with. He tries to cover the negative feelings, knowing that Steve will smell them, even if Maria and Pepper don’t, and he forces a smile onto his face. “Don’t worry about it. I- I just wanted to know that he was okay.”

“I was.” Steve squeezes his side and he leans into the touch without thinking about it. “Maria tries to keep us as safe as possible.”

Maria nods at the words. “I do. I also want to have a chat with you both next week,” she says and Bucky can tell from the tone that it’s not really an ask. “Being here in public together is a statement and unfortunately not everybody will like it. At the very least people are going to be curious about who Bucky is… At the worst, we might need to put some extra security in his apart-”

“It’s none of anybody’s business,” Steve cuts across her, his tone flat and terse. “I’ve never made out like I’m completely straight, Maria. You know that.”

“I do know that.” Maria’s tone softens slightly and Bucky thinks she looks remorseful as she continues, “But my priority has to be to keep you safe and whilst the two of you are together, that includes Bucky.”

“I don’t mind, Steve,” Bucky pipes up, deciding that they really have to talk about this later but not _now_ , not in front of others. It’s amazing that it hasn’t been discussed before considering they both knew that Steve was going to take Bucky out in public, at least to galas like these, and he wonders if they both put it off because it sounds insane for Bucky to date somebody and put himself at risk. It’s not that he really thinks he’ll be a target - his life isn’t that interesting and he’s mostly at home or at work - but he supposes that they need to at least consider the possibility that some traditional Alpha-Omega group might at least leap on their pairing as a way to generate publicity for conversative values or to smear Steve. “I mean, it’s not anything we’ve discussed but I get it.”

“But Bucky, this is your life. It’s invasive.” Steve’s tone is earnest and Bucky can smell the frustration leaking off him so he gives him an encouraging kind of smile, tries to reassure him that this isn’t upsetting him. 

“I knew what I was getting into, Steve. Don’t worry,” he murmurs before he raises his voice to answer Maria. “I can work around your schedule, Mrs. Hill-”

“Maria,” Maria responds with a wrinkle of her nose and Bucky can’t help but grin at that. “Mrs. Hill reminds me of my mother but that conversation isn’t happening until I’ve had at least a couple more whiskeys. Listen, this doesn’t have to be heavy duty. In fact I promise you that we’ll keep it as unobtrusive as possible so that it doesn’t disrupt your life. You can both be around when we set up what we need to if you’d like and I promise you that there’ll be no cameras or surveillance inside your apartment. We can use the Stark Phone as a tracker if you have your phone on you ordinarily-”

“No subdermal trackers, Maria.” Steve’s tone brooks no opposition and Bucky feels his spine get a little noodle-y at the idea. It’s not that he’s _into_ the whole ‘Me Alpha, You Omega’ thing, not exactly, but he’s never had anybody get territorial over his safety before.

“It’s the safest option. You of all people know that-”

Bucky shakes his head because he doesn’t want this to devolve into an argument over what’s safest for him. Not here. He’s a grown ass man and he’s very into his autonomy.

“Can…” He starts, hesitates and continues, “I’m sorry, this is just a lot and this sort of party isn’t really what I’m used to. Can we talk about this next week?” he asks, looking between Maria and Pepper beseechingly. “After I’ve spoken with Steve too?”

Maria nods, shoots a look at Steve. “Of course we can… And it goes without saying that you have a _choice_ here, Bucky. If you want none of this then you can opt out. It does mean, however, that your, ah, _sleeping arrangements_ are reduced to being here in the Tower-”

“That’s enough,” Steve grinds out and Bucky raises his eyebrows as he scents real anger. He winds an arm around Steve’s bicep and squeezes lightly, lets him know that everything’s fine. He also hopes, really hopes, that nobody smells it. He would hate people to think they’re having some sort of fight on their first public outing.

“I think you’re right, Bucky. Talking shop can wait,” Pepper interjects and Bucky swears she looks guilty as she looks between the two of them. Bucky figures that she probably didn’t mean to put a downer on the evening and so he smiles back at her. 

“We’ll leave you to enjoy yourselves. Have a good evening, you two, and Bucky, do try the crab canapés.” She winks at him. “They’re delicious.”

  


* * *

  


Bucky stops short as he comes out of the bathroom. There, in the corner of the room, is Steve talking to a tall, slim blonde. A blonde that he recognises from the glamorous photos he’s seen at two am on a google stalk. Sharon Carter is just as beautiful in the flesh, and she’s standing far too close to Steve for comfort. Specifically _Bucky’s_ comfort. 

The two of them make a perfect pair. She’s small and delicate-looking, he’s tall, broad and strong. It makes Bucky want to go back into the bathroom and hide - or make his excuses and leave. He runs a hand nervously over the sleeves of his tux, taking comfort in how soft the fabric is, and instead tells himself that Steve wanted him here.

Did Steve know Sharon was going to be here? 

Does he expect Bucky to step in?

Maybe he _should_ leave. Maybe Sharon’s here to tell him that she misses him and to win Steve back and Bucky can get out of this fake relationship before his crush gets out of control. Fully out of control, at least. He should run - Becca isn’t wrong in her assumptions that he’s too invested in this - but Bucky can’t help himself. He’s been having fun and he knows that Steve likes having him around. He’s also noticed over the past couple of weeks that Steve is not only touch-starved but fun-starved. The Avengers are his team, sure, but he hardly spends any time outside of that social circle. Bucky isn’t sure he has friends that aren’t related to super hero-ing.

He moves over to a circulating waiter to grab a glass of champagne and watches more critically this time, noting that whilst Sharon is using her hands and gesticulating, Steve has his hands shoved in his pockets. It’s incredibly unlike him and that more than anything makes Bucky take a deep breath and thread himself through the crowd until he’s by Steve’s side.

“Hi,” he says unsurely. “Sorry, I bumped into somebody I know.”

It’s a lie and he’s pretty sure Steve knows it but seeing as the other man smiles at him and wraps an arm around his shoulder, he’s confident that Steve doesn’t care. 

“No problem, Buck. I was just catching up with Sharon. Have you two met?” he asks and Bucky bites back a chuckle of laughter. 

“I don’t think so,” he demurs. “Bucky Barnes, pleasure to meet you.”

Sharon smells floral and Bucky isn’t sure if it’s her perfume or her natural scent but it’s off-putting to him. Then again, Omega scents generally _are_ a bit distasteful to other Omegas. “Lovely to meet you, Bucky Barnes, I’m Sharon Carter. Sam did mention you when I spoke to him at the bar earlier.”

“All good I hope?” he asks, curious as to what Sam has said. He seemed to like him when they met, so he doesn’t think he’s been trash-talked. If he has, Falcon is going _way_ down his list on Favourite Avengers.

She grins at him and shakes her head. “Of course. He said that the two of you seem happy and that you’re some sort of brilliantly smart engineer who works here at SI. Oh… And that it’s a hard-won thing to know whether it’s Tony or Steve that talks about you more.”

It wrong-foots Bucky for a moment. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting … Okay, so he was, for Sharon to be as petty a bitch as he would be if the situations were reversed, but instead she’s being nice.

Also, Steve talks about him?

The two realisations put him off his game, so he’s glad when Steve steps in.

“Tony mostly talks about himself, Sharon. Surely you haven’t forgotten that?” he asks, making all three of them laugh at the veracity of the statement. Bucky hasn’t been around for that long but Tony’s self-aggrandising soliloquies are legendary on Floor 32. 

“How could I?” Sharon answers lightly, tucks her hair behind her ear. “I’m glad to meet you tonight as I’m only stopping by for a little bit. Somebody’s got to keep Captain America in line.”

“I don’t know about Captain America,” Bucky muses, looking up through his eyelashes at Steve in a decidedly flirtatious manner. “I like keeping Steve Rogers in line though.”

Steve flushes and Bucky wants to squirm in glee at the sight, although he doesn’t. Steve blushes pink under the pale of his skin and Bucky can’t help but wonder if his chest pinks up too. “You make it sound like I’m a handful-”

“I’m not touching that,” Bucky mutters and hides his face in Steve’s arm when he laughs. “Not in public anyway.”

“Keep it clean.” Sharon has a smirk on her face and he watches as Steve turns redder under her gaze. She switches tack and asks, “Have you had the shovel talk from Natasha yet?”

“Uhhh, do I need it?” Bucky asks, nonplussed. “I mean… She’s the Black Widow, right? I think the shovel talk is implied by her mere existence and knowledge of my name and, I presume, all my personal information.”

Sharon snorts. “You _are_ smart. Look, I came over to catch up briefly before I head back to Europe tomorrow but I have to go and get my beauty sleep. Steve, it was really good to see you.”

“You too, Sharon,” Steve says and lets go of Bucky to kiss Sharon’s cheek, a brief perfunctory thing.

Sharon presses her lips against his cheek, steps back and rubs at the pale pink lipstick stain, and then turns to Bucky. “And Bucky, it was so nice to meet you. Look after Steve for me.”

Bucky’s looking after Steve all right. But not for anybody else. No, Bucky’s realising with every minute he spends with Steve that he wants to look after him because nobody else does. Not the way the man deserves.

Steve watches Sharon leave and Bucky feels a twinge of unease about the situation. “Any more of your exes hanging around this party?” he asks, trying to push through the way his stomach is squirming unpleasantly. “Not that I mind… She seems nice.”

“She is nice,” Steve replies, turning to face him. “It… I haven’t seen her in a while and when I thought about how it might be to see her again, it wasn’t… That. She seems happier than the last time we spoke.”

Bucky hums and takes a sip of his champagne, enjoying the way the bubbles fizz on his tongue. He asks the question that’s on his mind even though he’s not sure he wants to know the answer. “Do you miss her?”

There’s silence for a beat or two and Bucky hates that he feels a certain way about this. He’s here to be a buffer, here to be company so that Steve can actually enjoy the holiday season and yet here he is acting like a teenage Omega with a crush. 

“Sometimes,” Steve admits hesitantly. “Less so recently.” 

“Really?” Bucky asks, fingers clutching around the stem of his glass harder than they probably should.

“I mean, we spoke about this in the café, right?” Steve replies, pausing as if deep in thought. “I told you that I was never going to bond with Sharon, and that we were both on the same page when it came to knowing that, but it’s… Hard to think about how we were in each other’s lives and that she gave us up.” He frowns slightly and Bucky resists the urge to smooth it away with his fingers. “I know I said that she couldn’t tell me but… I don’t know, Bucky. Sometimes I wonder if she knew I’d never protest if she framed it as a done deal.”

Bucky frowns and finishes off his champagne, places it on one of those ridiculously high and tiny tables that only ever get used at these sorts of events because they’re incredibly impractical. “I get it,” he counters. “My ex was an asshole, nothing like Sharon, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to try and make it work. We’re told all about Alphas and Omegas when we’re younger, right? Maybe less so than in your childhood but it’s still this whole fairytale thing.”

“Your ex?” Steve asks and Bucky gets a sharp sense of something akin to ocean spray from Steve. He doesn’t know what it means and he’s certainly not going to ask.

“I really don’t want to talk about him tonight,” he replies, making a face at the very thought of having to do so. “Let’s just say that he’s ancient history and there’s good reasons for it. There’s zero chance of any reconciliation.”

Steve’s hand comes up to stroke his arm and Bucky sneakily looks around, wondering who he’s trying to put on a show for. “You sure?” Steve asks him.

Bucky nods, letting himself lean into the touch a little bit. “Yeah, I’m sure.” If Bucky never had to talk about Brock again, it would be too soon as far as Bucky’s concerned. “I’m actually enjoying myself even though I wasn’t sure if I would. This isn’t really what I do on a Saturday night, you know? It’s more chilling at home with a documentary and takeout. At most it’s an overcrowded bar in Brooklyn and a regrettable hangover the next day.”

Steve gestures to his discarded, empty glass with a jerk of his head. “You can get a regrettable hangover tonight if you want. Just because I can’t get drunk doesn’t mean that you can’t… You know I’ll get you home even if you pass out.”

Bucky makes a disgruntled noise and Steve laughs, keeps speaking, “I’m… Glad. That you’re here,” he clarifies. “I didn’t know that Sharon was coming tonight but it was nice to not be here alone. Normally, Tony would have introduced and left me with at least three people by now.”

“Ah the infamous supermodels,” Bucky teases, grins at the look of exasperation on Steve’s face. “I can see why that wouldn’t be ideal, not with all of these eyes on you. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much attention on me.”

He’s taken back, for a moment, to the tailor’s shop. He’d had plenty of attention on him then, Steve’s eyes boring into him like a pair of twin blue lasers, but this is different. Less welcome. Bucky knows that the people staring at him here aren’t interested in him, only in what his presence means to Steve and what that might mean. It’s a strange sensation that he’s not sure how to describe.

“Talking of eyes, do you want to get out of here for a bit?” 

It startles Bucky back into the present and his eyes fly up to meet the other man’s. “I thought the entire point of this evening was that you brought me here to show me off, Steve.”

He realises, as soon as the words come out of his mouth, that he probably shouldn’t have been so suggestive.

“Well, people _have_ been staring at you all evening-”

“Us,” Bucky interrupts, blushing as he says it and trying not to read into Steve’s compliments so he doesn’t internally combust. Or say anything else stupid. “Don’t give me all the credit.”

Steve makes a disbelieving sound but doesn’t say anything else, choosing instead to take his hand and lead him through the party. They take a door next to the kitchen and then they’re outside in some sort of courtyard. There’s fairy lights strewn around and some outdoor heaters along with a few small tables and chairs, but they have the place to themselves - so Bucky’s pretty sure that this isn’t the smokers’ corner.

Bucky makes a beeline for the heater and presses the button to start it up. He’s happy to come and talk to Steve and avoid speculative eyes for a while but he’s not going to freeze his nuts off whilst he does it.

“So about what Maria said-” he starts tentatively and isn’t surprised when Steve interrupts him.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. And if you want, I…” He hesitates for a beat. “If you wanted to walk away from this and stop-”

Bucky panics. “No, that’s…” He forces himself to relax, sure that some of what he was feeling showed on his face but Steve doesn’t look unduly concerned, instead focused in that way that makes Bucky feel like the only person that matters. “No, Steve. I’m not stupid. Just because we didn’t discuss this right at the start doesn’t mean that I didn’t expect there to be some repercussions. I locked my social media down when I decided to help you out, there’s no skeletons in my closet or my family’s closet. We’re not going to embarrass-”

“Embarrass?” Steve looks annoyed, jaw clenched. “Bucky, you couldn’t embarrass me if you tried-”

“Well, I have put my foot in my mouth several times…”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. “Stop trying to change the subject,” he says, a note of fondness in his tone. “It’s just a lot for you to take on and I know you’re only doing this to help me out.”

Bucky’s stomach flips unpleasantly and it’s all he can do to plaster a convincing smile on his face. “Well, what else was I supposed to do when Captain America looked to me for help?” he jokes, realising he’s fucked up as soon as he sees the slightly astonished look on Steve’s face. “No, wait. That’s-” He holds up a hand, tries to force his brain to think but all he can focus on is how much he likes Steve and how much Steve sees this as nothing more than him helping out.

Should he walk away?

“That’s not how I meant it. I- We’re friends, right? At this point? And so, _as a friend_ ,” he emphasises, “I’m not going to leave you in the lurch, Steve. The tracker on the phone is fine… It’ll only highlight how boring I am.”

Steve looks at him and several seconds pass before he speaks. Bucky struggles not to fill the silence with inane chatter to make it less awkward, wondering what’s going on in that superbrain of his.

“I don’t think you’re boring,” he says softly, making Bucky feel warm inside. “I think you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve met. I love the Avengers, they’re my family in a way, but all of us carry our secrets and our past with us. It’s really nice to be around somebody who isn’t like that.”

Bucky grins half-heartedly. “So what you’re saying is that you like that I don’t have enough PTSD to need a team of therapists. Is that what this is?”

Steve snorts and pulls him close to drop a kiss in his hair. It’s oddly endearing and Bucky can’t help but want more, but he doesn’t do it. It would be so easy to tilt his face up and close that gap, feel those lips on his again. But that’s not what Steve wants.

A second passes and Steve clears his throat, causing Bucky to stumble back. It’s barely a couple of seconds later that the door swings open and a gaggle of women stumble out, all reaching for their cigarettes in their purses as they clatter past the two of them towards one of the tables. 

The moment’s gone and Bucky mourns it fiercely.

“Come on,” Steve says, holding out his hand for Bucky to take. “Let’s go back in before you freeze to death.”

Bucky follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for the press's reaction in the next chapter?
> 
> Comments and kudos, as always, are absolute love (and completely play into my praise kink so there's that).
> 
> Come talk to (or yell at) me about this on [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We know what Steve's friends make of Bucky.... But how about the press?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for offering plenty of helpful suggestions on Chapter 6. 
> 
> Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.

Bucky miraculously wakes up without a hangover. Initially he’s not sure how, considering he _definitely_ sampled a lot of the endless top shelf liquor on offer - and a whole lot of champagne - but then he remembers Steve’s steady presence, and a glass of water being pressed upon him at regular intervals.

God Bless (Captain) America.

He rolls over and grabs his phone from where it’s charging on the nightstand, squinting when he sees that there’s more notifications than he’s ever seen in his life cluttering up the screen. 

Is his new fancy Starkphone broken? 

It’s as he sees that he has seven missed calls from ‘Mom & Dad’ that he realises what’s happened. He wakes up very suddenly and his stomach lurches. The press have posted photos and at least one photographer or reporter must have ferreted out who he is. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, shuffling his way into a semi-sitting position. The facial recognition opens the home screen up and Bucky notices notifications on every news, phone, messaging, email and social media app that he has installed. “Fuck!”

He opens up an amalgamated news app and scrolls through the headlines, his stomach knotting something fierce as he does it. He doesn’t know what he’s fearing - censure? Hatred? - but it’s mostly non-libelous disapproval.

** Captain America and his new mystery beau! **  
** Does Captain America really hold American values dear? **  
** What else is Captain America hiding? **

Bucky doesn’t read the articles in full, instead switching to his social media. His Instagram is private but he’s got over ten thousand follow requests and more messages in his DMs than he’s ever seen in his life. Bucky decides it’s too early to deal with that and with a grumpy grunt, swipes out of that screen and into his texts instead.

He drags himself out of bed as he skims through them, realising that he doesn’t even have saved numbers for half of the people who have messaged him. Some are friends, some are people he knew at uni. Some, unbelievably, are journalists.

Bucky shivers suddenly at the idea that he’s so easily contactable and gets a whiff of his own anxiousness: cedarwood cloaked in violets. He feels a little vulnerable.

“Hey, Buck?” He doesn’t realise he’s pressed the button to call Steve until he hears the Alpha’s voice and something in him goes soft at that deep rumbling voice. He sounds sleep-mussed and Bucky tries not to imagine him in bed. 

He fails and instead lets himself imagine Steve naked in bed, that glorious-looking chest on display and the sheets doing little to protect his modesty.

 _No_ , he chides himself. _Focus_.

“H- Hey Steve. I wanted to... Say thank you for last night,” He flounders for something to say, a reason why he called in the first place that isn’t just that ‘people seem to know who I am and it’s weird’ because they’d had that conversation the night before and Bucky had promised that he’d be okay with it. “I woke up without a hangover and I think that’s more down to you than me.”

He stifles a groan at the admission. _Smooth, Bucky_. Remind him that you were trying to sample the entire bar last night. That definitely sounds classy.

Steve laughs and Bucky can feel the warmth of his smile through the phone. “I saw Tony towards the end of the night. I can’t imagine he’ll be feeling fresh this morning. Pepper wasn’t handing him any water.”

Bucky chuckles then takes a sharp breath.

“No, I suppose she was busy hosting,” he agrees. He pauses and then blurts out what’s on his mind, “So, um, have you seen the papers?”

There’s a rustle - oh fuck, Steve _is_ in bed. Bucky can’t cope with that idea at all and so he tries to scrub his brain free of it before the fantasy builds, before fantasy Steve’s sheets slip down that bit further and reveal his- 

“No, not yet,” he says and there’s some background noise as he presumably grabs his tablet considering his next words are, “Jarvis, can you download them onto my Stark Pad, please?

“Oh, okay,” Bucky interrupts, biting at his lower lip as he hears Jarvis in the background saying something - he can’t quite make out what it is. “Somebody found out who I was, or somebody recognised me. Social media is… Shit, it’s really fucking terrifying this morning-

“What do you mean?”

Steve’s tone is suddenly alert and it makes the hairs on Bucky’s neck prickle. He can’t quite decide if he likes it or not. He suspects he does, which is another reason on the ‘Why Steve Rogers is an Actual Dreamboat and Bucky Barnes is a Dumbass for Thinking He Wouldn’t Catch Feelings’ list. 

Bucky sighs, tries to focus on what the actual problem is. “Well, I woke up to like ten thousand follower requests on Instagram because I’m set to private. I don’t have Twitter but I think somebody must have recognised my face and the internet’s done its whole, y’know, _going viral_ thing whilst I slept the sleep of the drunk…”

“Goddamnit-”

“Language, Steve,” Bucky teases, mostly because Tony told him about the whole swearing thing once in the lab. It’s also to dissolve the tension because this? This isn’t a big deal and Bucky knows he’s overreacted by even calling Steve.

“I- Heh, yeah, okay,” Steve says, sounding less tense but no less authoritative. “Look, I’ll speak to Maria and see if we can get that security moved up so you’re safe-”

Bucky gapes and stares at his phone. “Woah. No, stand down, soldier,” he replies instantly, getting himself out of bed and padding into his kitchen to start the coffee maker. “I think you’re overreacting. This’ll be old news in a couple of days when some celebrity has a meltdown. Besides…” His phone beeps with a message and he sees it’s from his parents.

**[Mom: Brunch at ours. Non-negotiable. We’ll get bagels]**

Followed by another beep.

**[Mom: Bring our future son-in-law]**

“Oh shit,” he mutters, scrubbing his hand over his face.

“What?” Steve asks, barely giving Bucky time to formulate words before he repeats, “Bucky, _what_?”

“My parents-” he starts and is cut off almost instantly with-

“Are they okay?”

He can’t help but grin. “Uhhhh yeah,” he replies, reaching for a coffee mug. He’s going to need at least two of these to function. He cradles his phone between his ear and shoulder rather than put it on speaker, liking the intimacy of how Steve’s voice is _right there_. “You know how I said I told Becca about what was really going on?” At Steve’s affirmative answer, he carries on. “Well, I didn’t tell _them_ so they’ve got about a hundred questions for me. And you.”

“Me?” Steve asks, sounding confused.

Bucky chuckles. “Yeah, you. Uh- How do you feel about a visit to meet my parents?” he asks, knowing that he’s going to have to plead if Steve says no because his mom will be unbearable. “They’re offering bagels and I know they’ll get the good ones if you come along.”

“Well, fuck.”

Bucky snorts.

“ _Language_ , Steve.”

  


* * *

  


Bucky’s up, dressed and as ready as he’s going to be when his phone rings and he sees that it’s Steve on Caller ID. He hasn’t really messaged anybody back except Becca and his parents and he’s decided to mute Instagram until he has the brain power to deal with it. He’s not touching Twitter. Twitter is a hellscape.

“Yo,” he answers, grabbing his keys and walking through his front door. He locks up and shoves his keys in his pocket.

“Buck, I’m on your street but-”

Steve’s voice is staticky and broken as Bucky jogs down the stairs, cell signal notoriously terrible in these old buildings. 

“I’m coming down,” he says, louder than usual in case Steve can’t hear him. “Hang on a sec, I’m almost at the door and I can hear you better then.”

“Buck, wait- Buck?”

Steve’s words die in his ears as he flings open the communal front door and is instantly assaulted by noise and flashing lights of waiting photographers. Photographers who _know where he lives_ already. _How?_

He blinks - once, twice - and quickly reverses back into the foyer before they can get any closer, throwing the door closed in front of him.

“Oh shit!” he exclaims into the phone.

Steve sighs, “Yeah.”

“Oh shit,” Bucky repeats because at this point he thinks it’s definitely worth repeating. “How the fuck do they know where I live?”

“Is there a back entrance?” Steve asks, clearly trying to distract Bucky from his panic.

It’s not working and he tries to take a deep breath, very aware that the aroma of nervousness and fear is fogging up the foyer something fierce and that somebody’s probably going to complain about it later. He scrunches his eyes closed, tries to think of something calming.

“Errr no because I didn’t pick this place ever thinking I’d need a separate entrance for when my super famous fake boyfriend came over,” he snarks back and instantly feels contrite when he hears how he sounds.

“Buck…”

He exhales shakily. “Sorry, sorry, I’m- There’s a lot of people out there.”

“Hold tight.”

The line goes dead and Bucky pulls his phone away from his ear. He stares at his phone but the screen is black. The call’s disconnected. He’s about to call Steve back when he here’s a cacophony of noise and ‘Steve’ ‘Captain America’ ‘Mr. Rogers’ from outside.

Is Steve-?

The loud knock on the door makes him stand up a little straighter and he opens the door, looking up to see Steve smiling down at him. Photographers are jostling behind him but he doesn’t even acknowledge them, let alone move to let them get a better picture.

“What the fuck are you doi-” 

He isn’t expecting the kiss. It’s sweet but reassuring. And over way too fast. Bucky chases it when Steve moves back. Steve quirks an eyebrow before tilting his head to kiss Bucky again, emanating calming Alpha pheromones which are doing _wonders_ for Bucky’s fear. Along with Steve’s palm on his cheek and Steve taking _control_ of the kiss. Bucky is just doing his best to keep up.

“Good morning to you too,” Steve says once they break apart.

“Good…” Bucky shakes his head a little and smiles up at him. He’s pretty sure he’s dazed, that jolt of calm going straight to something innate inside him and tranquilising any anxiety he had. “Yeah, um, good morning to you too.”

“You alright?” Steve checks, runs a hand through Bucky’s hair as he asks the question.

Bucky wants to whimper. He reminds himself sternly that they’re in public and this is the only reason Steve’s doing any of this even if it feels like it’s an absent, intimate gesture.

“I’m sorry about this,” Steve gestures to the photographers with one hand, keeping the other wrapped around Bucky’s waist. “I spoke to Maria en route and she’s going to come back to me with a plan to make sure that you’re not a target. We might need to put some cameras up outside your parents’ place if the paparazzi head there.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Bucky mutters mutinously even as he leans into Steve’s heat. “There’s been a Barnes in that neighborhood for about a damn century, Steve. It’s a close community, they’ll watch out for each other.”

As he’s speaking, Steve is walking them through the crowd. People are still yelling, some shouting slurs and horrible things to try and provoke them into a reaction. Steve says nothing, even when somebody yells _‘didn’t figure you for a queer, Captain!’_. Bucky doesn’t know if the man is a genius or a dumbass considering he’s sure Steve can kill somebody with a punch. It shouldn’t be a turn-on but it is.

The photographers follow them down the street but Bucky pays them no mind. He feels safe, secure, tucked under Steve’s arm.

“So, where’s the bike?” he asks instead, scanning the street and not seeing one.

Steve blushes beet red.

“I didn’t…” He stumbles and then says quickly, “I didn’t know if your parents would approve.”

Bucky is _delighted_. He grins widely and exclaims, “Steve!”

“What?” Steve grumbles, looking embarrassed by how much Bucky is enjoying this. “Look Bucky, not everyone likes motorbikes. I’m meeting your parents for the first time and seeing as they don’t know what our arrangement is-”

“Oh my God,” He laughs loudly. “Oh my _God_. I’m thirty, Rogers. I’m not one of your dames back in the forties. You’re _such_ an Alpha.”

“Suck it, Buck.”

There’s a pause when both of them realise what Steve’s said. Bucky’s instinctive response - _‘gladly’_ \- is thankfully not verbalised. Steve points a key at a shiny SUV and it opens. Bucky ducks from under his arm to sit in the car, bringing up the home screen on the console.

“Right,” he says, carefully not looking at Steve as he taps to the navigation panel. “Let me just put the address in the satnav and we can get going.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, puts the car in drive and shoots off before the paparazzi can follow along.

  


* * *

  


When they reach Bucky’s parents house in Park Slope, Bucky is glad to get out of the car. It’s not that Steve’s driving is bad - Bucky has long realised that he has a definite competence kink which Steve is hitting every damn time they meet - but he had never expected to be in a real life Fast and the Furious movie as they negotiated around Brooklyn and out-maneouvred the paps.

“They’ll love you,” he says to Steve reassuringly as he gets out his keys and opens the door. He ushers Steve in and is about to ask if he wants to hang his coat up when there’s footsteps on the creaky, wooden floor.

“JBB!” Becca hollers, rounding the corner. “Did you bring- Oh, _hello_.” She grins at Steve and makes no bones about looking him up and down. “Yes, yes you did.”

Bucky groans.

“Christ, Becs,” he mutters, wondering if it’s too early for alcohol. It’s a shame the Barnes family doesn’t go in for brunch mimosas and he silently vows to start making it a thing. Possibly starting today if his parents have anything in the fridge. “Steve, this is my sister, Becca. Becca, this is-”

“Captain America, Steve Rogers, all-American-”

Bucky slaps a hand over her mouth. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Becca bites the fleshy part of his palm lightly and he yelps. He stumbles backwards into Steve as he pulls his hand away and doesn’t miss Steve’s hand coming to settle on his hip. Or the massive chest against his back stopping him from falling to the floor.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Becca argues.

“The fuck I don’t.”

It’s beefcake. Bucky knows it’s definitely beefcake because it’s what he’d say and the two of them are alike in personality as well as looks. He’s lucky she hasn’t tried to squeeze his bicep to check that it’s real. 

Steve clears his throat. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says politely. “Bucky’s told me a lot about you.”

Becca grins at that and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I am the most interesting part about him-” Bucky contradicts that with an eye roll and a disbelieving snort. “Hey!”

This back and forth is something he’s used to. They talk quickly, a rhythm and a pattern to their words forged by nearly three decades of closeness. “You deserved that.”

“I didn’t-” She tilts her head, slate grey eyes narrowed on his before she concedes, “Yeah, okay, maybe I did. Anyway, mom has gone _overboard_ so I hope you brought an appetite. She’s been stress-cooking since she saw the papers.” She giggles. “She sent dad off to the bakery to buy bagels as soon as you texted back.

Bucky looks to Steve and voices what they’re both thinking. “Fuck.”

Becca sighs happily. “Mmhmm,” she agrees. “God, I’m going to enjoy this.”

“I hate you,” Bucky groans, lacing his fingers with Steve’s and giving him an encouraging squeeze. Steve squeezes back just as encouragingly.

“I know,” Becca chirps as she leads the way into the living room, Bucky and Steve close behind.

The house is pretty typical for the area. Bucky’s mentioned to Steve before that his parents could only afford the place because it was a wreck back in 1987 when they bought it, though both of his parents’ families hail from Brooklyn and have done since before _Steve_ was even born. It’s tall and skinny with three floors, a postage stamp of a garden, and four bedrooms upstairs set over the second and third floor, one permanently used as an office for George to do business in. 

The living room is eclectic and cosy, Winnie’s extensive bric-a-brac nestling in with George’s love of landscape paintings. Steve’s showing an interest in one of those landscapes and is leaning in for a closer look when Bucky’s mom walks in from the kitchen. 

Bucky knows he’s biased, but his mom is a badass. An Omega with a spine of steel, she’s the ultimate homemaker and somehow still balances that with being a school teacher. She stops still when she realises that Becca isn’t in the living room alone, whatever she was about to say dying on her lips.

“Bucky!” she exclaims, hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you shout that you were here?”

“I thought you’d have heard us,” Bucky replies, noting that Steve has turned from the landscape he was eyeing up. Steve looks guilty for even looking and Bucky snorts softly and shakes his head.

“Well, I didn’t. And this-,” It’s almost as if she’s only now spotted that Bucky isn’t alone - Bucky isn’t sure how, considering the size of Steve - and she softens a little, a smile lighting up her face and making her look a decade younger. “Oh, you must be Steve. We’re so happy you’re here.”

Steve stiffens and Bucky squeezes his hand reassuringly, glad when it makes Steve’s shoulders relax. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he answers.

“Ma’am?” Winnie shakes her head. “No, no, that reminds me of George’s mom. Call me Winnie or Win, Steve.” She looks the two of them up and down. “Now have you been offered anything to drink? Or are my children both heathens?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “We literally just got here, mom. You _just_ said you didn’t know we were here.”

“Becca, go get Steve a drink,” Winnie says, ushering Bucky and Steve towards the sofa for them to sit. When Becca doesn’t move from where she’s sitting on the arm of the armchair, she makes a little shooing movement. Becca sighs, as if the entire world is on her shoulders, and gets to her feet to head to the kitchen.

“It’s no trouble-”

“Nonsense,” Winnie jumps in, smiling encouragingly at him. “What do you want? Water? Coffee? Juice?”

Steve blinks. “A water would be great, thanks.”

Bucky curls into Steve happily, deciding that if dating Steve for appearances means that Becca becomes his domestic slave, he’s somehow died and gone to heaven. It’s an ongoing tradition that the Barnes children outdo each other to get out of chores and just because Bucky and Becca have both moved out doesn’t mean that it isn’t still going strong.

“Hey, Beccaboo!” he calls out as he hears Becca banging around loudly - in protest - in the kitchen. “Make me a coffee?”

“Go fuck yourself, JimJam!”

“...Rebecca Joanna Barnes!”

Bucky tries and fails to turn his laugh into a cough, Steve chuckling silently next to him. Yeah, okay, this is going to be more fun than he thought.

  


* * *

  


It's all going well until just before they leave. Steve’s been talking art with his dad for the second half of brunch, both of them getting increasingly enthusiastic over the atmospheric qualities of weather in landscape painting. Well, he thinks they’re still discussing that as they talk about brushstrokes. Bucky doesn’t pretend to understand although he finds it incredibly endearing to see Steve getting so passionate about something so simple. He likes to look at art and can appreciate it but he’s never had a lick of creativity. His brain works best when he’s working with his hands which is one of the reasons why engineering appealed so much when he was back at school.

It’s Winnie who hugs Steve tight and conspiratorially says, “I’m so glad to have met you, Steve. Bucky deserves an Alpha who can look after him.”

Bucky doesn’t know whether to appreciate his mom’s overprotective nature or throttle her for it. She looks so _happy_ , blue eyes shining with it, that he settles for a small smile.

Steve smiles back at her just as widely as she’s smiling at him but jerks his head towards Bucky. “He’s pretty good at taking care of himself. I’m lucky that he wants me around.”

“Oh, I can tell he does-”

She’s cut off from doing any more damage to Bucky’s reputation as an independent Omega by Becca dramatically moaning, “Mommmmmmmmmm, stop embarrassing Jimmy Boo.”

“I’m not being embarrassing, Becca,” Winnie starts, blushing slightly at being called out for it. “I’m just happy for them!” She looks to her husband. “Am I being embarrassing, George?”

George chuckles and puts his hands up in a universal sign of surrender. “I’m pleading the fifth,” he jokes before holding a hand out to shake Steve’s. “Either way, Steve, it’s good to have met you. Maybe we can go and see what’s new at the A.I.R. together, seeing as these philistines won’t understand anything there.”

Steve looks surprised at the ask and Bucky can’t help but bite his lip to hide his grin. Bucky had thought that Steve would get on with his dad, had hoped that it wouldn’t be awkward, but seeing Steve so easily accepted... It makes him feel warm inside, and he’s not sure that’s solely down to the heating in the house.

“I’d like that a lot,” he hears Steve reply over the sudden thumping in his chest. “My schedule is probably pretty busy up to Christmas but after that, it gets more predictable.”

His chest feels tight and two sizes too small and he decides that they need to leave now. This domestic scene is making him want to imagine that this is real, that Steve really _is_ his boyfriend and is going to go to an art gallery with his dad. But it’s _not_ real. Steve looks so approachable in his cable-knit sweater and jeans, beard growing in a little darker than his blond hair. It makes the fantasy too real.

“We should get going before mom wants to feed us again,” he blurts out, realising when four pairs of eyes swing towards him that he hasn’t read the room right. 

“Bucky!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he replies but he thinks it sounds weak. “I love your food, mom, and Steve here eats enough for four people but we should go. Thank you for summoning us.”

Winnie snorts and moves over to wrap Bucky in a tight hug. He tilts his head to smell her scent, feeling calmed by it in a way that takes him back to being a pup.

“Hold onto this one, Bucky. He’s a good one,” she whispers loudly. Loud enough when the five of them are standing in the hallway and one has super ears.

“Yeah, I know-”

“Much better than Brock.”

“Urgh, Brock,” Becca chips in, disgust evident in her tone. Bucky rears back from the hug, shaking his head. He knows how this goes and it’s not happening now.

“No,” he says adamantly. “We’re not talking about him when my new boyfriend is here. Come on guys.”

“Yeah, come on you two,” George echoes, shooting stern looks at both Winnie and Becca who, to their credit, look contrite. “Leave them alone.” He pulls Bucky into a quick, tight hug. “It was good to see you, son. Drive safely, Steve.”

“Bye dad,” Bucky says, inhaling some of that Alpha calm before stepping back.

They leave and thankfully there’s no waiting photographers in the bushes. Bucky grew up in this house, this neighbourhood and he doesn’t think that the locals would stand for it. Not when his parents are so integrated into the community through their jobs and their voluntary work. It’s a relief.

“So Brock’s the ex-boyfriend?” Steve asks as they’re approaching the car, the two of them having talked about brunch for the last few minutes.

“He is. Was.” Bucky feels himself hunch over defensively as he thinks about Brock and hates that he still feels that way about it. “He’s the type of asshole Alpha that you read about and hope you never encounter. He…” He looks across at Steve and then down at the pavement. “Do you want to hear about this?”

Steve makes a non-committal noise. “If you want to talk about it, I do.” He waits a beat then adds, “It’s obvious that your family don’t like him.”

Bucky can’t help but laugh at that, although it’s a bitter, sad sound. He thinks back to how his mom had wrinkled her nose up every time that Brock came over to the house, to the time where Becca got into such an argument with the man that Bucky feared it would get physical, the Alpha in them both rising to the challenge. 

“Yeah, they didn’t,” he agrees before amending the statement, “Still Don’t.” He smiles although it’s bittersweet. “They like you though… Jesus, I don’t think Dad spoke that much to Brock in the whole two years we were dating.”

“Really?” Steve sounds surprised by it and Bucky raises his brows, hoping he’ll elaborate. “He seems so personable and, well, a real family man. I can’t imagine he’d try to make things awkward for you.”

Bucky nods. “Dad is… He’s awesome. They’re all awesome, really, and I’m incredibly lucky to have three people like that on my side,” he agrees. “They can be a bit protective of me but that’s mostly because mom acts more Alpha than Omega sometimes. But it’s nice being so close to them again.”

As soon as he realises what he’s said, he wants to cringe. Or apologise. He knows it’s behaviour learned from being with Brock; having to watch what he says or having to be careful not to compliment somebody else too much in case his alpha reacts badly to it.

“You weren’t before?” Steve’s tone is measured but curious and Bucky sighs. He sees the car a few paces ahead and stops them both, a hand on Steve’s thick forearm.

“I… It’s a difficult one to answer,” he explains. “It wasn’t that we weren’t close, but I didn’t spend as much time with them as I wanted to whilst I was dating Brock. They didn’t like him, mom made that real clear about the third time she met him, and you’ve met Becca. You can imagine what she thought so…” He sighs, remembering how it was. “I hung around with them less on the weekends and it’s the reason I moved into my current place from the shitty studio I was in before. So I had more space for when Brock was over.” Bucky idly remembers how hard it had been to get Brock’s reek out of the apartment when they finally split up, the windows open in March for days despite the poor weather. “Honestly, I’m so lucky that I wised up to his bullshit sooner rather than later.”

Steve’s scent amps up a little and Bucky has to resist the urge to offer his neck as some kind of antidote, instead focusing on his words when the other man says, “What kind of shit did he pull?”

“Standard manipulative bastard fare?” Bucky scrunches his nose up as he thinks at how best to talk about Brock without sounding like some sort of weak Omega. “I don’t know how else to describe it. He was charming at first, flattered me into thinking I was the only one for him and with college and my extended studies, I’d never had a real relationship, just one night stands or a friends with benefits situation, you know?” He shakes his head. “I was fucking besotted, which… Honestly, I cringe to think about. And then he made me think I was going crazy. I’d rather not talk about that.”

Steve’s scent spikes, overwhelms, and Bucky blinks at him. He feels suffocated by the sudden scent of musk and burned herbs. Steve is _furious_.

“And where does this sorry excuse for an Alpha live exactly?”

That’s a complication that neither of them need, even if Bucky’s hindbrain is cheering at the support on his side… And the idea of Brock getting pulverised by Steve. The combination of the words along with Steve’s scent is making him sway a little.

“Woah!” he exclaims, centering himself and placing both hands on Steve’s forearms. When he sees that Steve really is angry - and looks upset with himself for being angry - he moves to hug him instead, both arms coming up to wrap around Steve’s neck. “Steve, really, it’s okay.”

Two arms wrap around his waist over his coat, Bucky able to feel the heat of them anyway. It’s a heady feeling, being wrapped in Steve’s arms, knowing that he’s capable of such tenderness when he’s known for much more brutal things. 

“You deserve better, Buck,” he mutters into Bucky’s neck, tantalisingly close to Bucky’s scent gland. Bucky knows it’s helping to calm him even if the scenting isn’t intentional and so he stays where he is. “I haven’t known you for very long but you’re everything anybody might want in a partner.”

Bucky pulls back after a few more selfish moments although he doesn’t step back from the embrace, merely placing his hands on Steve’s cable-knit clad chest and resisting the urge to pet him. “I know- Uh, about the deserving better part, not about the other part.” He smiles tightly. “It doesn’t mean I’ll get it though.”

Steve tilts his head and regards him. There’s that intent look on his face again and Bucky thinks that Steve might be the only person he can accurately describe as ‘earnest’. “What do you mean by that?”

He scrambles to explain himself instead of dwelling on how much he likes Steve looking at him like that. “Well, it’s not like I have them lining up around the block to date me,” he says, falling back on self-deprecating humour seeing as it’s been his go-to for the past thirty years. “Honestly, dating you for show has been the most stable relationship I’ve been in this year.”

“For me too,” Steve agrees, a smirk curling at his lips. 

“Huh.” Bucky’s floored by the smirk. He also wants to kiss it off his face. “What does that say about us?”

Steve looks as if he’s going to say something but shakes his head, kisses Bucky on the cheek and steps back instead. “That we either have discerning taste or that we’re beyond hope,” he calls out as he rounds the car to the driver’s side. “Anyway, c’mon, get in. We’ll call Maria in the car and see what she has to say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I wonder what this pair is up to for Christmas seeing as it's soon coming up. Any guesses?
> 
> Comments and kudos, as always, are absolute love. I always have such a smile on my face when I see a daily kudos email and I love responding to comments.
> 
> Come talk to (or yell at) me about this on [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/)!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for offering plenty of helpful suggestions on Chapter 7 and doing an awesome beta job. 
> 
> Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.

The next week passes in a blur. Bucky’s team is busy playing around with a technology that deadens sound, something that the Avengers could possibly use for stealth missions. It’s a week of long days and longer nights and Bucky barely sees anybody except Tony. He only goes home to sleep and he barely notices any of the new safeguarding technology installed by Maria’s team. By Friday he’s wiped and can barely keep his eyes open, so it’s a surprise when he feels a hand on his shoulder and he looks up to see Steve.

Steve, who looks incredibly handsome in a softly textured red and black plaid button down over a white t-shirt, and who is looking at him in concern.

He’s really missed Steve this week and he takes a moment to let the smell of him flood his senses, making him feel soft and gooey like some sort of chocolate with a caramel centre. And like he could sleep for roughly a thousand years with his nose tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck.

“Steve?” he asks, wondering why Steve’s there until his eyes slide away to the clock on the wall behind Steve’s head. “Hey- Oh shit, is it really so late?”

“It’s late enough for you to clock off for the week,” Steve says with a tiny smile, gesturing for Bucky to switch off his laptop. “Tony told me where you were and I figured you were busy based on the amount of 3AM texts I received this week.”

Bucky groans, taps a couple of buttons and hears the chime of his computer shutting down. His head feels like it’s been filled with cotton wool and it suddenly hits him how tired he is. He’s been running off fumes for at least the last two days and he can’t remember when he last ate a proper meal. “Oh- Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s been _a week_. I know I haven’t been around as much as I should-”

“No, no. Buck, it’s fine. This is your job.” Steve shakes his head and looks down at him. “D’you want to go upstairs and see the others or do you want me to take you home?”

“Mmmno,” Bucky replies, once his brain stops fixating on the idea of being behind Steve on that Harley of his, gripping onto that broad body of his. “I think I’d fall off your bike.”

Steve snorts at the admission. “I could borrow a car. Or…” He hesitates. “Or you could stay here at mine.”

Bucky’s suddenly more awake, heart rate thumping faster, and he tilts his head. “With you?”

“Uh, I do have a second bedroom,” Steve points out, effectively crushing Bucky’s dreams. “But I’d have offered to take the couch if I didn’t.”

Scrap that. He’s crushed them and then ground them into dust under the heel of his shoe.

“Right, of course.” He offers Steve a cheerful smile and hopes that it doesn’t look too forced. He’s pretty sure his scent is giving off mixed signals seeing as he can’t remember the last time he put his blockers on but he’s getting next to nothing from Steve in return, just the usual mix of woodiness that he finds so intoxicating. “Sorry, I think I’m a little spacey from sleep deprivation.”

Steve reaches for his hand and tugs him up to standing, steadying him when he sways. “C’mon, I’m taking you upstairs.”

“To yours?” he asks, stifling a yawn and resting his head against Steve’s shoulder.

He hears Steve chuckle and sighs happily when one of Steve’s arms slides around his waist. Steve starts walking them towards… Bucky isn’t sure. He’s not paying attention. “That was the general idea unless you have a better one.”

“Should go upstairs with the others, not spoil your night,” he argues, thinking that at least if they’re around other people he isn’t going to do anything stupid like try and make a move on Steve. Who has, once again, indicated that he’s clearly not interested. Bucky idly wonders if he’s a masochist for sticking around.

He doesn’t voice this, instead saying, “I’m not going to be much company right now, but I can sleep through whatever movie is on.”

“Using me as a human pillow?” Steve asks, arching an eyebrow in a way that seems very unfair for Bucky’s self-control.

Bucky nods enthusiastically because that sounds brilliant. He’ll get more time with Steve and his comforting, wonderful smell that way than he would in an unused spare bedroom. “Fuck yeah I am. Yeah, let’s go upstairs.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying right now?” Steve asks and Bucky can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s grinning, but he tilts his head up anyway to check, seeing that fond look that Steve often gets. Like Bucky’s some sort of pet he kinda likes.

“Probably not,” he replies, his mouth getting the better of him. “But let’s go before I make a fool of myself and have to move to Timbuktu to get over the shame of it, okay?”

Steve snorts. “Whatever you want, Buck.”

  


* * *

  


Bucky does, as predicted, sleep through the first movie. It’s Hercules so it’s one he’s seen before, but he wakes up feeling slightly regretful that he missed the chance to sing-along with the others. On the other hand, he has in fact used Steve as a human pillow, and he’s feeling a sense of calm that he’s not sure is normal. Steve’s hand is on the back of his head and neck, petting at his hair, and Bucky thinks that he no longer has a spine. He feels molten.

Then his stomach rumbles. Loudly.

“Mmmf- Food?” he asks hopefully and the hand stops. He bites back a whine and instead cracks an eye open to look at Steve. “Hello.”

“You’re back with us?” Steve asks, a slow smile curving his lips. “You missed the movie.”

“I think I’m hungrier than I am tired. At least right now,” Bucky admits, shifting to get up. Steve’s arm strokes down his back and holds him where he is and he asks, “What?”

“Stay where you are,” he murmurs before turning to ask, “Nat?”

“What? Does lover boy need some food?” she calls back, making Bucky blush and hide his face in Steve’s chest. “Or is he still asleep and you want seconds? I already brought you a plate, I’m not bringing you another because you don’t want to move him.”

“It’s for Bucky,” Steve says, sounding - Bucky thinks - a little defensive. “Can you just get a bit of everything? Please?”

Bucky flops back down onto Steve and only opens his eyes when he smells something delicious and spicy. He sees Natasha crouched in front of the two of them, a quizzical half-smile on her face. Steve lets him go when he moves this time and he sits up, taking the plate of food. “Thank you, this looks delicious.”

“It’s not a problem. You were out for the count when it arrived earlier,” she says, rolling up to her feet and gesturing towards Steve with a nod of her head. “Your guard Alpha here wouldn’t let us wake you up.”

Steve blushes and Bucky can’t help but grin as he scoops up some shish kebab. “Thanks Steve,” he says softly. “I didn’t realise how tired I was. But- Uh, Natasha, you can start the second movie if you want? I think I’ll stay awake for it this time.”

Natasha gives him a wink as she backs away towards the kitchen, presumably to tell the others that they can come back in. “I’ve already got odds on you falling asleep again. The quicker the better, Barnes.”

“Hey-”

“It’s fine,” Bucky cuts in before Steve can get indignant on his behalf. “I’m running on empty so she probably isn’t wrong.”

Their conversation is forestalled by the other Avengers coming back in. Tonight it’s Tony, Natasha, Bruce, Sam and Wanda. Pepper is in DC working on some lawsuit, Clint is on some sort of stakeout - not that Bucky is supposed to know about that or Maria will have his hide - and Thor is still not on Earth. They take their seats on the various pieces of furniture and settle in. Bucky looks over the screen and sees that Moulin Rouge is queued up. He’s not sure whose pick it is, but his money is on Natasha. She looks the sort to appreciate a tragic ending.

He’s still mulling this over when Tony pipes up.

“So Bucky, what are your plans for Christmas?”

Bucky’s surprised by the question, coming left-field, but he doesn’t miss how Steve tenses up next to him.

He finishes his bite of food and swallows before answering. “…I don’t know. Takeout and a Christmas movie?”

Steve frowns at him, looking confused. “Are you not seeing your family?”

“Not this year,” Bucky explains, shrugging his shoulders. “Mom and Dad are going away on vacation - she’s a teacher and volunteers to cover summer school so she hasn’t had much time off. She had a milestone birthday this year so Dad surprised her with a trip for the two of them to… I want to say St Lucia?” He’s going to miss seeing them but he’s really glad that they’re getting away and they managed to spend Thanksgiving weekend together. “I think Becca’s spending it in Florida with one of her college friends. I don’t have any vacation days saved up yet so I’ll be in Brooklyn.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re free…”

Sam rolls his eyes at Tony and snarks, “Real subtle, man.”

Tony makes an unimpressed face back, eyeing Sam over the rim of his glasses. “What? I’m only thinking how much we wouldn’t like Buckeroo here to be all alone in his apartment over Christmas.”

Bucky’s confused, highly confused, and he looks to Steve for support, although Steve isn’t meeting his eyes. He’s having some kind of stare and eyebrow-off with Natasha who is looking like the cat that got the cream. Weird.

“Uh, what?”

“Tony’s being an a-”

“Don’t continue that sentence, Wilson,” Tony interrupts. “And also, no, I’m not. What I’m being is a generous benefactor and boss.”

“I don’t follow…” Bucky says.

Natasha smirks. “Don’t worry, half the time Tony doesn’t follow his own thoughts and he’s a genius too.”

“Rude,” Tony says, pointing at Natasha. He then turns to face Bucky again. “I’m giving you a week off for Christmas regardless of what any HR system says. Come to Vermont.”

“Come to where now?” Bucky asks, frowning. He’s sure he’s smelling of anxiety and confusion, can tell that he probably does from the way that Steve holds him that bit tighter as a reassurance.

“Vermont, I have a cabin-”

“Tony, it’s not a cabin,” Bruce says mildly, holding his cup of green tea and looking faintly amused at the entire exchange. Bucky hasn’t spoken with him a lot yet but he seems one of the most normal. Ironic, considering he turns into a literal rage monster.

“It _is_.”

Sam chuckles. “It’s a damn supervillain lair is what it is.”

“Err, sorry- What does this have to do with anything?” he asks, desperately trying to catch up. Are they asking what he thinks they might be asking?

“What Tony is trying to do - badly - is extend an invite to our Christmas celebrations, Bucky,” Wanda cuts in before anybody else can, the lilt of her accent somehow comforting to Bucky. “We’re going up to his home in Vermont for a long weekend and we’d love for you to come with us.”

Bucky feels a bubble of excitement in his chest at the idea but it’s quickly lanced by the realisation that the ask didn’t come from Steve. He looks up at him and bites at his lower lip. 

“I- You want me to come?” he asks, voice pitched low in case Steve wants to say no.

“Of course I do, Buck,” Steve answers, words tripping off his tongue as if he was holding them back. “The only reason I hadn’t asked already is because I thought you’d be with your family. Besides, I need some normality around these jerks.”

Tony gasps. “I resent that-”

Bucky tunes them out as they devolve into squabbling, his attention focused solely on Steve. That fizz of excitement is back, racing through his veins like some sort of fine champagne. Spending a white Christmas with Steve? In some sort of rural paradise? What is his life?

“Yeah. I…” He ducks his head slightly and grins. “If you want me there then yeah, I’ll come to Vermont with you, Steve.”

“Do I need to get you outdoor winter clothes?”

The question makes him raise his head again and he speaks before he can think, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “You gonna watch me get fitted for those too?” He freezes as he realises what he’s said, mouth dropping open. “Um, I mean, you’ve gotta be busy.”

Steve’s watching him with that intent look again. It makes Bucky feel hot in his own skin and he desperately wants Steve to touch him. “I can come if you want me to, but I think you can figure it out by yourself,” he replies, shattering Bucky’s dreams of another sugar daddy moment. It’s the second time in three hours that he’s done it. “You _are_ a genius.”

“I am smart,” he agrees, trying to tell his brain to pull it together. He really wishes he’d said nothing, that Steve had spoken more. “Clothes shopping should be a cinch, huh?”

Steve snickers at the sass. “I’m paying for some of these though-”

“Nuh uh, no way. Nada. Not happening,” Bucky replies, shaking his head vehemently even though part of him is screaming to take the credit card. “I’ve got plenty of things and I can afford a few extras with the salary SI has me on.”

“But-

“But nothing, Steve. You’re taking me on vacation and I’m paying for my clothes.” He decides to act on impulse and leans in to kiss Steve, a soft, affectionate thing that he knows will shut Steve up from talking. He doesn’t pull back far, instead murmuring, “Thank you for the invite.”

Steve swipes his tongue over his lower lip, looks at Bucky with something like wonderment in his eyes as Bucky finally sits back on his heels. “You’re welcome.”

“Get a room.” 

Bucky flips Natasha the bird - which he regrets immediately because she could kill him in his sleep - and settles down against Steve’s chest to watch the next movie instead. Even remembering that it’s a sad film and he’ll probably cry through it doesn’t stop the grin on his face. He’s spending Christmas with _Steve_. And real or not, Steve wants him there.

  


* * *

  


The next morning Bucky is awoken by the blaring of alarms. He kicks at his covers until he’s freed from the bed, blinking around muzzily at a room he doesn’t recognise. It takes him a moment to realise that this is Steve’s spare room and that Steve must have carried him down from the Avengers floor the night before. Bucky hopes - with every fibre of his being - that he didn’t say something utterly stupid.

He recognises there’s a strong possibility that he did.

Poking his head out of the door, he sleepily pads into the kitchen area and is somehow unsurprised to see Steve suited up. The uniform does amazing things for his ass but Bucky manages to drag his eyes up to eye-level by the time Steve turns around.

“It’s an Assemble,” he says tersely, pulling his helmet on over blond hair that obviously hasn’t been brushed considering it’s sticking out in some places and is flat in others. It’s oddly endearing. “Go back to bed, it’s early.”

“No, ‘s’fine,” Bucky murmurs, wincing as the sound jars through his brain. It’s discordant, the tone of it obviously orchestrated so it can’t be easily ignored. He glares at the ceiling because it’s rude for this to happen before he’s even had his coffee. Or seen Steve in whatever he sleeps in. “Is the alarm going to stop?”

“It will once we’ve all boarded the jet,” Steve promises. “I don’t know when I’m going to be back-”

“Comms black out, yadda yadda,” Bucky finishes for him, offering a small smile. “I’ll head back to my apartment later. Be safe, yeah?”

Steve nods, looks like he might say something else, and then strides forward to hug Bucky tightly. “I’ll keep myself safe but you... Stay as long as you like, Buck.”

Bucky snorts at the solicitude, unsurprised that Steve wants to keep an Omega he likes where he knows it’s safe. “Assemble messing with your Alpha mother hen tendencies?” he questions and is gratified when the other man laughs in return.

“A little,” Steve admits, pulling back and holding Bucky’s shoulders with those large hands of his. “Just be careful. Jarvis will let you know what he can.”

Bucky grins at him. “I’ll be very careful.” He taps at one of Steve’s hands with his own and makes a shooing motion. “Now go before I get arrested for hindering an operation or something.”

Steve leans forward and presses a hard - and completely unexpected - kiss to Bucky’s lips before stepping back and grabbing the shield from on top of the counter. With a two fingered salute, he’s racing to the door and out of sight. 

Bucky sits motionless for a couple of minutes - did that really just happen? - before going to search for his phone. He’s still dressed in what he was wearing the night before. Steve only removed his shoes, socks and sweater before putting him to bed, emptying the contents of Bucky’s pockets out onto the nightstand so that nothing stabbed him in the night. It’s a small gesture but he’s touched by it nonetheless.

When the noise ceases, it’s deafening in how shockingly quiet it is. Bucky’s used to street noise, the voices of his neighbours in the hallway as they traipse past his front door, the occasional screeching of a siren. Here there’s nothing except a slight whistle of the wind slicing past the window. Bucky gets up and walks towards it, eyes fixed on the view from the sixtieth floor. 

“Oh, he lives,” Becca answers, sarcastic and sleepy on the other end of the phone. There’s a rustling and Bucky realises she’s still in bed. “Where the fuck have you been? I was about to send out a search party.”

“Work,” Bucky replies, stifling a groan at the thought of that. There’s still work to do on the project and he’s not sure he should really leave it to Monday. “I did send you a message earlier in the week to say it was getting busy.”

Becca snorts and yawns down the phone. “There’s busy and there’s falling off the face of the earth,” she reminds him although it sounds good-natured. “Where are you anyway? Want to grab brunch today?”

Bucky says nothing as he tries to get his thoughts together. He knows what Becca is going to think. He’d think the same if he were her; it’s not like she doesn’t know how much he likes Steve. 

“...Bucky?”

Finally, he huffs out, “I’m at Steve’s.”

“You’re _what_?!” she exclaims, excited. He hears her giggle down the phone and closes his eyes.

“It’s not what it sounds like,” he warns her.

“Like fuck isn’t it!” He can hear her footsteps as she crosses her apartment and a gurgling that has to be her ancient, cranky coffee machine. He’s offered to replace it multiple times but she’s oddly attached to it. “What’s he like in bed? No,” she says sharply. “Don’t answer that, not if I’m going to be seeing him at the table for Thanksgiving next year.”

Bucky groans at the throwaway comment. “You’re so funny, Becs. Tell me again why you’re not a comedian?”

“I’m hilarious, you’re just a poor audience,” she confirms before hesitating a beat. “So did you really not bang the good Captain?”

Bucky sits down on the floor and leans forward until his forehead is pressing against the window. The glass feels cool against his skin but it doesn’t do much to squash his feelings of doubt and inadequacy. “No, I didn’t. I- He came and picked me up from the office last night and I pretty much crashed during movie night. I don’t even remember going to bed so he must have literally carried me there-”

“You’re such a Disney princess, Jimbo.”

“Whatever,” he says sharply. “Anyway I woke up early because it sounded like the world was ending but apparently that’s just the sound for an Assemble alarm. Steve left about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Shit.”

He sighs, closes his eyes shut tightly. “Yeah. I mean, I hope… I can’t really think about it, Becs,” he admits softly. “I know we’re not dating for real but I like him. I don’t want to think about him - or any of them - getting hurt. It’s weird to think that I know the Avengers as people but I do now…” He laughs shakily, emptily. “Jesus, I’m not sure I could deal with this on a regular basis.”

Becca makes a sympathetic cluck in her throat. “Do you want to meet up and take your mind off it?” she asks. “We could go for brunch, queue for Rabbithole seeing as you love that place.”

Bucky considers saying no but he recognises that if he does, he’s going to be loafing around this apartment until he finds a reason to leave. He’s not sure it’s really healthy to do it, not when all he wants to do is roll around on Steve’s furniture and mix their scents together. He’s already having a hard time imagining Steve’s rumpled sheets being scent-heavy.

“Not going to try and persuade me to go to Meadowsweet?” he replies, swerving his mind away from that mental image.

“No but only because I’m nice,” she replies, her grin evident in her tone. “Meet in an hour?”

Bucky gets to his feet and walks towards one of the other doors in the room, the one that doesn’t lead out to the hallway and that he thinks, based on the shape of Steve’s apartment, must be a bathroom. 

“Sure. I’m going to go and sh-” He gapes as he flicks the switch and reveals the huge expanse of marble, glass and chrome. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

He runs his fingers over the egg-shaped bath as he walks through it, his voice echoing. “Becca, this bathroom is the size of my apartment.”

“Well, fuck,” she replies, giggling. “Are you sure he doesn’t want to be your sugar daddy?”

“Urgh. Yes, yes I’m sure,” He makes an embarrassed sort of groan as he checks out his reflection in the mirror, thankful that his hair somehow remained tamed during the night. “I said something about staying here and he went out of his way to assure me that he had a second bedroom and - before you say anything - that he would have slept on the couch if he hadn’t.”

“Ouch.” It’s sympathetic at least. 

Bucky nods at his reflection before moving to look at the toiletries lined up by the sink. “Mmhmm.”

“Okay, well when you’ve used all of his toiletries-”

Bucky blushes and takes his hands away as if burned. “I’m not going to do that!”

“Mmhmm,” Becca replies, unconvinced. Bucky’s 99% sure she doesn’t have surveillance technology within the tower but sometimes it’s creepy how well she knows him. “So when you have, drop me a message and I’ll meet you there.”

“You’re the worst,” he points out.

“Terrible,” she replies breezily. “See you later!”

  


* * *

  


Bucky doesn’t hear from Steve for three days and he’s glued to the news, eyes searching for Steve anytime footage is played. It’s a giant tsunami in Asia caused by a particularly vicious terrorist group. Bucky’s stomach clenches as he sees the casualties and he knows in his heart of hearts that Steve is going to blame himself for not doing enough. Not because it’s justified, but because it’s the type of person he is. On day two, to make things worse, aliens arrive to help the other side. 

When his phone does eventually ring at six in the evening on the third day, it’s not Steve’s voice at the end of the line.

“Bucky? It’s Sam. Are you sitting down?”

Bucky’s stomach drops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides behind a bush for a week*
> 
> Uhhhh.... Comment or come talk to (or yell at) me about this on [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/)?
> 
> DON'T HATE ME.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU CAN STOP YELLING NOW.
> 
> No, really, yell at me. I love it. Here comes Nurse Bucky... 
> 
> As ever, my sincerest thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) because this is a semi-wreck before she does her magic.
> 
> Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.

“Barnes?”

Fingertips on the back of Bucky’s neck rouse him and he looks up, blinking himself awake. Natasha’s face comes into focus, smudged with dirt and a black eye ringing her left eye socket and a swooping sensation flips his stomach as he remembers why she looks like this.

“Oh shit,” he mutters as he sits up, his hand still on top of Steve’s. He’s sitting next to the hospital bed in an armchair and he wonders how long he’s been out. “Oh shit, I fell asleep-”

“It’s fine,” Natasha reassures him, taking a seat on another chair and crossing her legs. She looks like a dainty ballerina, albeit one that’s gone ten rounds with a professional boxer. “He’s still asleep and probably will be for most of today.”

“Is he?” Bucky looks across at Steve, cataloguing the cuts and scratches on his face. They already look slightly less livid and he wonders just how quickly Steve _does_ heal. Bucky doesn’t think it’s just his Omega urges that have him wanting to caretake, to make Steve feel good and smile again. He can’t smell anything from Steve and it’s distressing. He hadn’t realised how in sync the two of them obviously are for Bucky’s nose to pick out the absence of Steve’s scent right now. 

It occurs to him all of a sudden that he can’t smell Natasha and that he never has been able to. He wonders if it’s by design considering she’s a kick-ass assassin and spy.

“I know Sam said he’s gonna be okay but-” He bites at his lower lip, sucks it into his mouth and releases it again. “He doesn’t look okay.”

“It’s the serum,” Natasha explains. “We’re still not exactly sure how it works, Steve’s touchy about anybody holding onto his blood for longer than is necessary, but Doctor Cho and Bruce think that this is how he regenerates so quickly. He goes into a semi-conscious state so that his body can focus on healing. As crazy as it sounds, he’ll be up and about in a few days and acting like a complete asshole when he finds out that he’s not going to be signed off for exercise or active duty until after Christmas, barring an absolute emergency.”

“But his actual injuries aren’t that bad?” Bucky asks, wanting a guarantee. “I mean, relatively speaking. A couple of gunshot wounds to the abdomen don’t sound exactly great but everyone seemed pretty okay with it which…” He blows out a breath. “Okay, add that to the surreal experiences pile.”

Natasha hums consideringly and tilts her head, looking at Steve. “It’s not the worst he’s had,” she admits.

“That doesn’t mean he won’t feel pain though, does it?” Bucky asks, lacing his fingers through Steve’s gingerly even though he knows the other man won’t grip back.

“No.” Natasha looks at him and Bucky can’t tell what she’s thinking. Her face gives nothing away, but Bucky knows better than to think she doesn’t have an opinion. “But knowing Steve, he’ll pretend like it doesn’t.”

Bucky frowns at her and then looks back at Steve. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters grouchily. “How can I help him?”

She smiles a little impishly and Bucky wonders if he’s misstepped. “I take it you’ll be staying at the Tower with him?” she asks, raising one perfect eyebrow. “He won’t be allowed to go back to his place in Brooklyn until at least the end of this week.”

“Um.” He hesitates, knows he might be blushing. “Well, we haven’t discussed any of these kinds of scenarios yet, but yeah, I’ll be with him so long as he wants me here.” He thinks of things he’ll need to arrange, like Becca watering the plant and work- “I might need to talk to Tony about seeing if I can work at non-standard times.”

“I’m pretty sure Tony will sort that out seeing as Steve won’t want him anywhere near,” she replies evenly. “Steve needs somebody around to babysit him and Tony isn’t that person. They’re oil and water at the best of times,” she explains at Bucky’s confused look. “He’ll try to push too hard unless you stop him.”

“What do you mean?”

Nat sighs, pulls her knees up to her chest. “I mean that I wouldn’t be surprised to see him trying to cook and clean the day after he gets out of here.”

“ _What_?” Bucky hisses, side-eyes Steve to make sure that he hasn’t woken him up. He can smell anger and for once it’s not Steve, his own woodsy scent suddenly strong in the air. He hadn’t applied blockers. It hadn’t seemed important what with the whole Steve’s been shot situation.

“You heard me-”

Jarvis’s voice cuts through whatever she was about to say. “Miss Romanoff, your presence is required in Room 93-01 for your physical therapy. Please make your way there immediately.”

“Okay, Jarvis,” she calls back, getting to her feet and stretching with a hint of a wince. Bucky notices now that she’s dressed casually in sweatpants and a jumper that he thinks is Clint’s.

“Listen, Barnes, I programmed all of our numbers in your phone under aliases…. Jarvis here can let you know who’s who if you ask him,” she said, gesturing to his phone which is on the bed next to his and Steve’s joined hands. “ Any problems with Steve, you give us a call, okay? You don’t have to deal with him alone.”

What the fuck? He has the Avengers’ phone numbers? Does he have Thor’s? 

He realises he’s said nothing and quickly manages to blurt out, “Uh, thank you, Natasha.”

“Anytime,” she says, smiling as if she knows what he’s thinking even though- No, she can’t possibly actually know that. 

She leans past him to sweep Steve’s hair back off his forehead. “No idea if you can hear me, Snow White, but get well soon.”

And with that she leaves the room and Bucky’s left alone with Steve and his thoughts. He’s got plenty to think about.

  


* * *

  


Two days later and he might want to kill Steve. Bucky’s used to being independent, only looking after himself, but it’s not like he _doesn’t_ want to look after Steve. Steve’s hot and gorgeous, with a heart of gold, and Bucky knows he’s more than a little smitten. However, he’s also as stubborn as a bull and reasoning with him about why he should stay in bed is about as satisfactory as hitting his head against a wall. 

Repeatedly.

“What are you doing?” he asks, hands on his hips as he looks at the scene. Steve has the fridge door open and is leaning against his crutch as he rifles around inside it.

“Ahhh…” Steve leans back so he can look at him. “Uh, just getting myself some breakfast.”

Bucky is pretty sure that his face is already giving off seriously unimpressed vibes but he scowls a little harder just in case. 

He shakes his head and rounds the counter. “Bed.”

“Buck-”

“Bed.”

“Hey-” Steve interjects, annoyed but Bucky merely slips in the space between him and the fridge.

“ _Bed_ ,” he insists. “Or do you want me to call Sam?”

Steve grunts but backs off, letting Bucky close the fridge. The doctor has said that Steve should primarily be on high-protein shakes and smoothies, with mushy food to be introduced tomorrow. Bucky has already made large quantities of blended soup, having used a combination of checking Pinterest and calling his mom to make sure they’re as delicious as possible.

“What’s wrong?” he asks when Steve seems reluctant to share. He looks restless and sad and Bucky can’t help but touch his arm.

“Nothing.”

Bucky reluctantly smiles, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Steve…”

“... I don’t want to be in bed alone,” Steve admits, hunching in on himself and making himself look less imposing. Bucky has learnt from Becca that it’s hard for Alphas to admit that they need anything, and so he responds by sending a flurry of happy pheromones into the air. 

Steve elaborates further. “All I can focus on is my body knitting itself back together.”

Bucky stops what he’s doing, turns to give Steve his full attention because _shit_.

“Are you saying you hurt?” he asks, eyes scanning over Steve. He’s not sure what he’s looking for - Steve is physically fine - but he can’t help but shake the feeling that he’s right. Steve is hurting and he can’t fix it and it hurts.

“... No.”

It isn’t convincing.

Bucky sighs. “ _Steve_.”

When there’s nothing else forthcoming, he strokes a hand up and down Steve’s arm soothingly. “Look, can you-” He stops himself, changes tack. “Please, just go back to bed. Let me make some toast, hot cocoa, and a shake for you, and I’ll come in and sit with you, okay?”

Steve looks at him, eyes bright with something Bucky doesn’t recognise. He knows it’s a good emotion though. “You don’t mind?”

“Steeeeeeve,” he groans because if he’s going to have to convince Steve that he wants to hang out with him then he’s going to end up saying something stupid. Or doing something stupid. Like humping him in his sleep. “Of course I don’t. We’re friends, right?”

Steve’s quiet for a second but then smiles back. “Yeah, of course,” he says cheerfully before gathering his crutch up and pointing down the hallway. “Um, I’ll go back to my room.”

As Bucky watches him go, he gets the feeling that he missed something vital. He’s just not sure what.

  


* * *

  


Bucky’s warm. He’s warm and he’s in bed, no- he’s in his _nest_ with his Alpha who has his arm around him and he’s safe. All he can smell is that woodsy musk that doesn’t come out of a cologne bottle, tempered with an earthiness that is just this side of sweet and pure Steve.

Wait- 

Bucky’s entire body jerks as he plunges into wakefulness. He realises, to his horror, that he’s curled around Steve. Scenting Steve. His lips and nose are against Steve’s scent gland and his scent is thick, which means Bucky’s been at this for a while, nuzzling and maybe even licking at the patch of skin. 

He also realises he can smell his own arousal mixed in there, a warm honey smell that he’s been trying to keep from Steve for weeks now. 

“Mmnaugh,” he says incoherently, lifting his head to see Steve looking at him. 

Steve’s eyes are bright with amusement when he murmurs, “Good afternoon to you too, Buck.”

Heat floods Bucky’s system as he blushes, becoming horribly more self-aware as the seconds pass. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have… Fallen asleep. And done that,” he says, looking at where Steve’s neck is pink and tender looking. “Shit, Steve, I’m so sorry-”

Steve shakes his head at him, frown lines appearing as he - and how can he not when Bucky isn’t wearing his blockers and is emanating shame? - realises Bucky is embarrassed about what he’s done. “I should have stopped you. I was asleep until a couple of minutes ago.”

Bucky blinks at the admission. Steve had been awake. Had Steve... Wanted him to? Or was it just that he’d hoped that Bucky would stop of his own accord? 

“Why- Um, why didn’t you?” he asks tentatively.

Steve chuckles, the deep, rich sound doing something to Bucky’s insides. “You looked so peaceful and when I asked Jarvis, he said you hadn’t slept properly since I got hurt-”

“Traitor!” Bucky exclaims, looking at the ceiling and trying not to die of mortification. Is it possible to die of embarrassment? Bucky isn’t sure but he thinks he’s well on his way to it.

Jarvis speaks up, oddly toneless when he says, “Captain Rogers did ask me a direct question, sir, and I had no counter-orders to not divulge the information.”

“Hmph.”

Steve nudges him with his elbow and Bucky realises that he’s still sprawled across Steve. He makes an attempt to get himself sitting up, biting back a whine when Steve moves his arm from around him. He instead thinks about how nice Steve’s sheets are, the crisp whiteness making him want to roll around in them. He’s not even sure how he managed to worm himself under them considering he’d been reading a book whilst Steve slept.

“It’s important to me that you sleep,” Steve points out, a hint of ‘Captain America’ lacing his tone.

Bucky rolls his eyes in return. “Well, it’s important to me that you don’t try and kill yourself doing menial chores when I’m here and happy to do them.”

Steve smirks. “Touché.”

“Quite. So let me help you-”

“Plus it felt nice.”

“... What?”

Bucky isn’t sure what Steve is referring to but he hopes, he _hopes_ that it’s what he thinks it is. That Bucky scenting him was nice, not that Bucky making him soup is nice. Bucky doesn’t really give a shit about making soup. He cares about making Steve feel good even if he knows it’s going to rebound and make him feel like shit come January.

“The whole… Scenting thing,” Steve continues, speaking quickly as if he needs to get the words out. “I know I should have stopped you but… It’s been a while since I’ve had that...”

Bucky bites back the urge to say that it’s fine, that he _wants_ this too.

“...And I thought about it… It makes sense that we’d smell of each other to some extent. I know you prefer to wear your blockers for work but residual scent is still a thing.”

And with that sentence, his hopes plummet once again. Bucky tries to think of cheerful things so his scent doesn’t show it, makes a note to get his blockers delivered to Steve’s apartment if he’s going to be here for a while. Steve is still only thinking about appearances, that’s all. 

Damn it all to hell.

“It is a thing,” he says with some fake cheerfulness, thinking back to the long showers he used to take where he scrubbed Brock’s scent off him. Brock hadn’t smelled _bad_ , it just wasn’t a smell that had complemented Bucky’s well, which, in hindsight, should have been enough of a clue that they weren’t meant to be. “And you’re right, we’re not, um, bonded - obviously - but there’s logic behind what you’re saying. Especially when we’re at Tony’s for Christmas. Speaking of, what’s the routine there?”

“Routine as in what we do on Christmas?” Steve sits up, half-winces as something obviously hurts him. “Remember that I don’t have much to compare it to, Christmas back in the thirties and forties was completely different. And Tony is… Tony. We usually get a quinjet up there but there’s plenty of cars. We can drive if you want-”

Bucky shakes his head. “Are you fucking kidding me, Steve? Quinjet!”

Steve laughs. “Alright, alright,” he promises. “If you ask Nat nicely, she’ll show you some of what it can do.”

Bucky waggles his eyebrows. “You’re not going to show me your best moves, Rogers?”

He means it jokingly - sort of - and he’s entirely unprepared when he sees the challenge light Steve’s eyes. 

“You want me to, Barnes?”

“Maybe,” he replies demurely, looking up at Steve through his lashes and feeling like preening when Steve squares his shoulders. He also doesn’t miss the wince as Steve does it and remembers that the Alpha’s still injured. He really shouldn’t press Steve’s buttons, especially when he feels things for Steve that he knows he shouldn’t. “So, you were saying- Routine.”

“Routine,” Steve says, looking slightly confused by Bucky’s about-turn. Bucky wants to apologise, to get back to the flirting again but before he can interject, Steve continues, “There’s very little to actually _do_ as Tony has staff. We exchange presents on Christmas morning - Tony usually does something obnoxious to wake us all up via Jarvis - and then there’s a big lunch. Otherwise, we tend to hang around in smaller groups or solo and meet up for meals or to watch movies in the evening.”

Bucky isn’t sure how he feels about that. It sounds… Lonely. And it’s akin to other things Steve has unknowingly admitted. He doesn’t doubt that the Avengers are a team and a found family of sorts - and that it’s great that they all have each other - but it goes without saying that they pretty much all need lessons in how to socialise like normal people.

“Okay, so what do _you_ do in the day?” he asks, running his fingers through his hair and scowling when he encounters a tangle.

Steve shrugs. “Read, go for walks, sometimes ice-skate on the lake if it’s frozen enough.” He grimaces. “That… Makes me sound really boring.”

“No it doesn’t,” Bucky replies quickly. “I’ve never ice-skated on a lake before. Hell, I’ve barely skated. I went to the rink at Rockefeller a few times when I was young - mom wanted photos of Becca and me in front of the tree - but all I remember is that I wasn’t very good at it. It was never anything I did as a teenager so I’m probably going to fall on my ass.”

Steve smiles softly “I’ll stop you from falling.”

“Promise?” Bucky asks, wondering why his heartbeat seems to be jackrabbiting at the thought.

“Yeah.” The moment is cut short by Steve’s stomach growling. “Ah-”

Bucky laughs, falls backwards onto the pillows that smell like Steve - and now, he supposes, like Bucky too. He lets himself luxuriate in that for a moment before his Omega instincts to please kick in and he sits back up. Steve looks like he’s about to try and get out of bed and so Bucky shakes his head, kicks his way out of the sheets and gets to his feet.

“Nope,” he says decisively, pulling his clothes into some semblance of order so he doesn’t look like he’s just woken up from a mid-afternoon nap. “Stay put, mister. I’ll go get you a soup.”

And if he needs a few minutes in the kitchen to give himself a pep talk whilst he’s heating up the soup, to tell himself that he needs to stop reading into every little sign that he _thinks_ he’s getting, then nobody has to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we like? Do we not like? 
> 
> Comment and/or come talk to (or yell at) me about this on [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/). I'm happy to answer asks on the series!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for the awesome beta job.
> 
> Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.
> 
> .... Now are we ready for some overprotective Steve?

“So, how is he really?”

Bucky is in the living room on the phone to his mom and it’s early. Early enough that the sun hasn’t yet risen. He’s sipping at his coffee and sitting in the window seat he’s created for himself, looking down at the city which - this far up - looks like some sort of ant colony. He’s cosy and warm with his blanket wrapped around him. If Steve’s noticed that he’s built a day nest, he hasn’t commented on it.

Bucky doesn’t know what that means.

“Fine, mom,” he says, turning his mind back to the conversation and the question that’s been posed. “Okay, don’t jump at me, I know you hate ‘fine’. He’s just tired but I’m looking after him.”

Winnie hums. It’s vaguely ominous. “And is he looking after you?”

“Not exactly a priority right now...” The hum gets more ominous. “...but - to ease your fears - I’m absolutely okay. I just want him to be well, it’s weird seeing him move around so… Hesitantly.”

“And what about work?”

Bucky chuckles. “Well, it helps that my boss is his teammate,” he points out. “I’m… Working, albeit not as hard as I should be. I go down to the floor for a couple of hours a day so I’m around if anybody needs me and otherwise I work from the living room in his apartment. It’s not ideal but it could be a _lot_ worse.”

“Do I need to send a care package?” his mom asks, worry present in the tone of her voice. “And did you go to your doctor’s appointment?”

Bucky snorts. “I’m a self-sufficient Omega living my best life, ma,” he replies, taking another sip of his coffee and noticing how the sky is lightening up, the sun about to pop over the horizon any moment now. “How’s packing going for the holiday?”

“Are you trying to distract me?” Winnie asks suspiciously. Bucky is able to hear clunking around in the background and surmises that she’s making herself lunch to take into the school. He’s not sure when it became commonplace for the two of them to speak so early but it’s been this way for at least two years now.

“Depends,” he says cheerfully. “Is it working?”

“Lippy little pup,” she chides affectionately. “But it’s… Happening. Your dad keeps adding more things to the ‘take’ pile including that horrible orange Hawaiian shirt he has. Have you started to pack for your own vacation yet?”

“Mmmmm…. Nope,” Bucky says, popping the ‘p’.

“James.”

“What?” he says defensively, trying to keep his voice down because he’s sure Steve is still asleep. Bucky has been around for four days now and Steve seems increasingly less disturbed by his presence, able to sleep through Bucky being in the apartment. The serum is making him sleep more but whatever it's doing to Steve, it’s working: he’s already not reliant on the crutch. “I’m at the Tower with Steve and all my things are in my apartment. I’ll drop by and pack when I can. I think Sam’s dropping by tomorrow for a few hours, so I’ll go then.”

His mom huffs. “And what about a Christmas present?”

“A Christmas present what?” he asks, finishing off his coffee and putting the mug down next to him.

“For Steve,” she says carefully. “And I suppose for the others too seeing as you’re spending the holidays with all of them and it’s going to be awkward if they’ve bought things for you and you haven’t reciprocated.”

“Oh.” Bucky feels as if he’s been dropped in freezing water, insides clenching unpleasantly as he realises that he’d forgotten _completely_ about presents. Bucky’s a genius once he’s in a robotics lab but outside of it… He’s a human disaster. “Oh God.”

Winnie recognises that tone particularly well and exclaims, “Bucky!”

“Urgh, I hate my life,” he mutters, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Why did I say yes to this trip?”

“Less of that. You’ll love it and I’m glad you’re not going to be in Brooklyn on your own,” she says matter-of-fact. “But you need to get him something good, you know? I can tell you like him a lot and he’s smitten with you too.”

Bucky smiles sadly. He hates lying to his parents but he knows that they wouldn’t understand what he’s doing. In fact, he thinks his parents would yell at him - and at Steve - for doing this. Besides, he thinks Steve _does_ like him but only in a friendly way. It’s not the first time that Bucky’s thought how awful it is that Steve doesn’t have any non-Avenger friends. He hopes that afterwards, they can at least remain friends. If Steve wants to.

Bucky hopes he does.

“You think?” he asks, hating himself for fishing.

“I’m your mom, I _know_ these things.” Bucky hears her pick up her keys and knows that she’ll need to be on her way soon. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Nope.”

She tuts at his sullen tone. “Well, get your thinking hat on. You’ve only got a week until Christmas. And you are dating one of the greatest tacticians of all time.”

“Aware. Very aware,” he says dryly before what she’s said registers and he jolts upright. “Wait- How do you know that?”

“I might have read one of your dad’s biographies on him-”

“Ma!” he whispers loudly, looking up and across to the hallway to make sure that he hasn’t woken Steve up.

“I only wanted to be more sure of his history so I didn’t accidentally offend him,” she says defensively. Bucky recognises the spiky tone as his - and Becca’s - and struggles not to laugh at it.

“I am horrified right now,” he mutters, pushing up to his feet and then bending to pick up his mug. “I have to go and get breakfast together before Steve wakes up and the serum makes him a prickly asshole but let me repeat: horrified.”

“Love you, Bucky,” she says merrily.

“Yeah, you too mom,” he replies warmly. “Even if you _are_ a stalker.”

  


* * *

  


It’s late afternoon when Bucky’s phone starts to blow up with notifications. At first he ignores it - once he’s checked that it isn’t Steve or Sam (who is Steve-sitting for the afternoon so that Bucky can get some work done). He’s had his Instagram muted since the day after the gala and other than having a Google Alert set up for his name, he’s only answered messages from Becca, Steve, his parents and close friends.

However, now he’s seeing more messages fly in from different sources and, if his shared assistant is any judge of the situation, something’s gone down based on how she keeps guiltily staring at him from her desk halfway across the room. 

He can’t ignore it, although he isn’t sure what sort of photo they’ve posted this time. He hasn’t been anywhere, not since Steve was injured. 

He picks up his phone and unlocks it, clicks on one of the links. It takes him to an online celeb gossip type of site, one famous for stirring shit and posting photos that could look scandalous, look that way with the right sort of story posted alongside them. He reads the headline _‘Captain America’s Lewd Omega! Read on to see the photos that James Barnes doesn’t want you to see’_ and freezes.

There’s a collection of photos, clearly phone photos, of Bucky in varying states of undress. He recognises some of them, remembers sending them to Brock after he whined about having nothing to jerk off to on a business trip, but otherwise he doesn’t. He’s asleep in some of them. Had Brock taken photos of him whilst he was asleep?

Has he posted them on the internet?

He scrolls through the article, sees quotes from ‘a close source’ talking about how he’s after his fifteen minutes of fame and has no intention of ever settling down. That he’s a disgrace to Omegas and stopped his last Alpha from bonding with him because he’s unnatural. It’s Brock, Bucky knows it’s Brock, and he suddenly feels sick to his stomach because this is a nightmare come to life. He’s heard of this happening to other people, of photos being splashed on the internet, but this seems to be national news.

Shakily, he puts his phone back down on the desk.

He hates that his first instinct isn’t to leave the building, head home and curl up into a ball under a blanket. It’s to go and find Steve, let him be that blanket. But he can’t, he _can’t_ let Steve see him like this. It’ll either send him berserk - not useful when he’s still injured - or he won’t care. Bucky’s not sure which is worse. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, can’t help with that.” Tony’s voice makes him yelp and he spins around to face him. He still hasn’t figured out how the man can be so silent when he’s the noisiest person Bucky knows. “Cap not up to it yet?”

Bucky blinks at the question, brain too overtaxed to be able to cope with the idea of Steve doing that to him. “What the fuck?”

“Too much?”

Bucky groans and drags a shaky hand through his hair. “You think?”

“So what’s up? J gave me a head’s up, told me that something might be amiss in the social media world.” He hops up to sit on Bucky’s desk and throws a hologram up, starts swiping through screens. “I’m the King of Twitter.”

“Self-proclaimed?”

Tony rolls his eyes at him and presses on the hologram, tweets coming up mentioning Bucky’s name. “Only because Jack won’t implement a verified crown instead of a tick. It’s a matter of simple coding,” he mutters darkly. “Anyway, Buckster, you’re deflecting. What’s up?”

“Nothing...”

“Hmm,” Tony replies disbelievingly. “You know your phone is lighting up like July 4th. And you’ve got a lot of Twitter mentions… Shit, you’re trending.”

Bucky sighs and grits out, “My ex.”

“Ah,” Tony replies, pausing in what he’s doing temporarily. “Nudes leaked? Tell-all with a tabloid? Something more nefarious?”

“Both.” Bucky winces as he admits it. “Well, not complete nudes but still, uh, private. And some of the photos I didn’t even take. I look asleep in them.” 

“Touché. Are the photos-” He flicks one of the photos up. It’s Bucky laid out on Brock’s bed, the top sheet pulled down to show off his ass as he unknowingly slept through this photography session. “Woah, no they’re not bad. Jesus, you’re never going near Pepper or she’ll eat you for breakfast. New rule: you and Steve must wear clothes around my Alpha at Christmas.” 

He flicks to another photo: Bucky half-naked but abs clearly defined as he pulls down the waistband of his jeans. Bucky supposes that it's something that he at least was cognisant of taking that one. “Christ, are those photoshopped? Or sprayed on?”

“Oh my god,” Bucky groans quietly. “You’re my boss. Don’t look-” He panics and looks up at Tony. “Shouldn’t you be firing me?”

Is he going to fire him?

Oh god, why had he even said anything - put the idea in his head?

Tony gives him a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Would any of this be happening if it wasn’t for you dating Steve?” he asks, continuing on before Bucky can answer. “The answer is no and frankly, I’ve done worse. Way worse. So that would make me a hypocrite and I’m only a hypocrite on the second Wednesday of every month. This doesn’t impact how well you do your job.”

“But what about the team-”

Bucky has worked hard to establish his reputation. Not just here - although he was hired _because_ he’s so good at what he does - but since college. He’s always had positive feedback, he’s always gotten on well with the people he works with. He’s always wanted to be the best at what he does, work with the best, encourage younger members of the team to be the best too. All he can see now is his professional integrity circling the drain because of a few photos of his ass and he feels like he’s about to be sick.

“Your team cares more about nanotechnology and perfecting that muffling technology than they do about your ass. Wrongly, in my opinion-

Bucky squeaks out, “Tony!” but it feels hard to breathe.

He tries to count to three between each breath. He can’t.

“Fine, fine. I’ll let Steve comment on your ass.” Tony seems to notice that Bucky’s blockers aren’t working with the panic seeping through his scent glands and places a hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. You’re fine, Buckeroo. I’ve been through way worse than this. Shit, I’ve posted my own nudes before. Helps Pepper hurry back from some of those business trips she takes, citing ‘damage control’.” 

Bucky can tell Tony’s working hard to emit a calming scent of his own. Even though he’s an Omega and it’s not the same as having an Alpha - Steve - wrap him up in his scent, that and the mindless chatter helps a little. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He pauses a beat, eyebrows raising. “Has Steve been tagged in any of this?”

“Has- Oh fuck. Does he have Twitter?” Bucky asks. “I don’t have Twitter.”

Tony hums but nods. Bucky’s stomach sinks. “Some intern runs his account but he _has_ used it a couple of times when he’s lashed out at the press.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah…” Tony gestures to the elevator. “You want to go back upstairs and save him from himself?”

Bucky’s not sure that he does. At least Sam will be there and working overtime to produce as many Beta pheromones as he can. And it’s not like Steve _is_ his Alpha. He’s just a friend. A friend who… Oh, who is he kidding? Steve is a complete pack leader at the best of times and, for the time being, he considers Bucky pack.

“Double fuck.”

Tony snorts and hops off the desk. “Have fun with that,” he offers dryly. “And after he’s gotten all the ‘me Alpha, me protect’ out of his system, let Pepper know what you want to do. At the very least, you can file a report against him and we’ll make sure the charge sticks.”

“I don’t think Brock meant it to blow up like this,” Bucky admits, picking his phone back up and noticing that he now does have a message from Steve. 

**[Steve: Can you come upstairs?]**

“Really?” Tony sounds sceptical and Bucky can’t blame him for it even though his gut feel tells him that he’s correct. 

“Humiliate me? Sure.” He shrugs and frowns. “But incriminate himself? I don’t think he thought it through.”

Tony says nothing for a second and Bucky wonders what’s going on in that brain of his. Has he said something wrong? Has he somehow indicated that this thing between him and Steve is fake? “You still have feelings for this Brock? Something Steve needs to know about?”

“No, no, god no,” Bucky wrinkles his nose at the thought. “I’m glad it ended and he’s right, I wouldn’t let him bond with me because I knew he wasn’t the one but… I don’t want to ruin his life. He’s an asshole and… I know he gaslighted me enough but I don’t want to have to care about him. _Think_ about him.”

“Well, he should have thought about that before he leaked explicit private photos of you without your consent,” Tony replies seriously. “But seriously, it sends a message if you don’t file: a message that Alphas can get away with this with Omegas and that nothing will happen to them. Activists will be all over your ass for that.”

Bucky stands up, grabs his jacket and pulls it on. He puts his phone in his jeans pocket. “You’re overly obsessed with my ass today.”

“Well, now I’ve seen it…” Tony looks him up and down in an overly lecherous way which has its desired effect, making Bucky huff out a laugh. It’s a relief to be able to laugh even if his brain is working a mile a minute on different scenarios, each more dramatic and horrible than the next. “Go upstairs. This’ll blow over.”

He smiles wanly. “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony makes a face. “Urgh, no,” he says, sounding disgusted. “Go away. Before I’m forced to do something assholish to restore my reputation. Hey, Thompson- Stay there, I need to talk to you about the silencer on the Quinjet-”

Bucky snorts and picks up his messenger bag, heads to the elevator as Tony walks over to one of the other department heads. He’s not sure what’s waiting for him upstairs but he knows that it won’t be as easily solved as a coding problem on some technology.

  


* * *

  


The air _reeks_ of Steve’s distress. Anger, upset, alarm… Bucky can smell it all and the strength of it makes him take a step back. He quickly dips into his bag and grabs a face wipe to remove his own blockers, determined to not add to Steve’s worry by smelling of nothing. He’s been wearing a stronger formulation since being in the Tower but he’s pretty sure Steve is going to need scent to reassure him.

“Buck? Is that you?”

He walks in the direction of the voice, unsurprised that they’re in the living room. He can smell something pleasant and airy as they get closer and he recognises it as Sam. It’s still overpowered by the stronger scent of Steve but it’s something. 

Bucky’s glad that Steve wasn’t alone. If this is how he is with a Beta next to him… For somebody he isn’t even dating… Bucky’s not sure he’d cope if this was real. His head is reeling as it is.

“Yeah, Steve. Jesus- I’d ask if you’d read the article but I can smell that you have.” He enters the living room and smiles at them both. “Hey Sam.”

Sam smiles at him and throws Steve a look. “Hey man. See, I told you he’d be fine.”

Steve looks terrible. His blond hair is standing on end as if he’s been tugging at it and there’s a restlessness to him, not dissimilar to that of a caged predator at the zoo. He’s barely limping at this point but he’s walking more than is advisable and Bucky’s pretty sure he hasn’t sat down since he sent that text.

“I know that, I just can’t-”

“Stupid hindbrain, I get it,” Sam interrupts although his tone isn’t unkind. “Listen, do you mind if I take off now Bucky’s back? I love you, Steve, but I’m literally getting a headache from the stink-

“Fuck!” Steve mutters and Bucky doesn’t even think, he steps forward, the instinct to comfort an Alpha propelling him more than anything else. 

“Hey, hey, it’s fine. Come here, Stevie,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around his waist. He doesn’t hesitate to tilt his head back so that Steve can get a good dose of his scent. When Steve stands stock still, hesitating, he clucks his tongue and encourages Steve closer. “Sam, don’t worry. I’ve got it.”

“Your ex’s name is Rumlow, right? Name sounds familiar but I don’t know why.” Sam asks, pulling on his ankle boots and getting to his feet. “You going to press charges on that asshole?”

Steve’s nose is pressed against his neck when Sam speaks again but he growls under his breath when he hears the question, a rumbling sound that makes Bucky’s head spin with how much he wants to respond with an instinctual Omega whine. “Of course he is-” 

“Steve.” Bucky’s tone is warning and he winces at how brusque he sounds, wanting to immediately kiss Steve over and over until he’s comforted. He doesn’t mean for it to come out so sharp but he doesn’t want to have this conversation with Steve in front of Sam.

“Sorry.”

The apology is unexpected and it makes both Bucky and Sam raise their eyebrows. Alphas in this mood don’t tend to be the most rational to deal with, operating on instinct. Bucky tightens his grip on Steve to reassure him, strokes his hair with his other hand.

“I don’t want to but I’m probably going to have to,” he replies to Sam, ignoring the fact that his head’s tilted in a slightly awkward position as Steve scents him. “If I don’t, it undermines all the progress we’ve made on Omega rights and I… I don’t want to do that. I spent enough of my twenties campaigning for things to be more equal.”

“I hear you,” Sam says, grimacing because- well, he’s a Beta. Their rights are _better_ but romantically, they’re seen as a lesser designation. “Well, let me know if you two need anything.”

Steve lifts his head finally, looking - to Bucky’s eyes - less hunted. “Thanks Sam. And sorry again.”

Sam snorts. “I’d say anytime except I don’t mean it. I’ll see you tomorrow for your rehab session in the gym.”

Once Sam has left, Steve wraps up Bucky in a proper hug. Bucky lays his head against Steve’s chest and listens to the regular thump of his heartbeat, lets himself be soothed by the smell of Steve. He wants to drag him to a sofa and rub Steve’s scent all over him. He wants to do _anything_ he can to make Steve happy.

“You okay?” he asks, tilting his head so he can see Steve’s face.

Steve arches an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I’m okay, Steve,” he replies, not even bothering to try and smile and make this sound better than it is. “I spoke to Tony and … He’s not going to fire me so honestly that’s my biggest worry dismissed. I _do_ care about how you’re taking this though. It reeks up here-

“Sorry.”

“- You don’t need to apologise, this is your space and I mean, it’s flattering that you’re upset on my behalf, that you see me as part of your pack...”

“Bucky...”

“... But you don’t need to worry. I sent a group text to my family on the way up here and they know not to answer any unknown numbers in case it’s reporters or somebody fishing.” He’s pretty sure that Becca will send memes about it at some point but she’ll probably give him a week to get over it before she starts. “Honestly, it’s probably a blessing that they’re all heading out of town in the next couple of days.”

“That’s…” Steve exhales sharply, annoyed. “It’s not okay.”

Bucky hums and focuses on the warmth of Steve around him, tries to think of that rather than that millions of people have seen his ass. “Of course it isn’t but… That’s kind of besides the point, isn’t it?” he points out. “I mean it’s done, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Steve honest to god _growls_. “Aren’t you angry?”

It takes Bucky a moment to process, trying to force his feelings down. He’s never had somebody act like this around him, like he’s somebody that matters. It’s intoxicating and his thoughts are wholly inappropriate considering what’s going on.

“I’m more… Upset than angry,” he explains. “It feels like my privacy has been violated, like I need a shower to scrub this feeling off me. I was asleep in some of those photos, _asleep_ , and-”

“What?” Steve’s arms tighten around him and he yelps. 

“Super strength, Stevie. I need to breathe,” he reminds him a little breathlessly. Steve lets him go and he steps back enough to see his face properly. “Did you not look at the photos?”

Steve blushes and looks discomfited. Bucky can’t help but smile at it. “I saw a couple but when it became obvious that you hadn’t released them, I stopped.”

“Tony had no such restraint-”

“ _What?_ ” A blast of anger hits him again, Steve’s jaw clenching, and Bucky doesn’t think twice.

“Woah, no, okay, that’s not good. Scent me again, you’re way too worked up.” He pulls Steve closer and tilts his head back again. “Tony didn’t say anything. You can look at them if you want. There’s nothing _that_ explicit, just a few photos I sent to Brock when he asked me to and some he took of me sleeping in the nude. I didn’t know that he’d taken them or kept them.”

“It’s not okay, Buck.”

Bucky strokes his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I know it’s not.” 

“I hate that you’re going through this because of me.”

Bucky snorts. “Well, I didn’t expect my ass to be on the internet, that’s for sure.”

Some of the tension goes out of Steve - Bucky guesses it’s because he isn’t as upset as Steve expected him to be and he's thankful for Tony's presence downstairs, thankful for the reassurance that he isn't going to lose his job thanks to his asshole of an ex - and he steps back, holds Bucky’s gaze. “You are going to press charges though, right?”

“I guess so,” he replies, frowning, “I hate that Brock’s that much of an idiot. He must have been drunk or something-”

“Don’t make excuses for him.” When Bucky goes to say something, to at least try and defend his ex, he shakes his head. “No, Bucky, don’t. He’s a grown man and from everything I’ve heard, he’s a pretty unpleasant one. Honestly, I want to rip him limb from limb right now.”

And doesn’t that zing through Bucky like electricity? He’s never really had an Alpha that isn’t family this protective over him and it’s a heady feeling. Even though Bucky isn’t a damsel in distress and he doesn’t need any sort of protecting, it’s still _exhilarating_ to think that Steve would.

“Really?” he asks, swiping his tongue over his lower lip.

Steve’s eyes are intent on his face. If Bucky didn’t know better, he’d think that they were looking at his mouth. “Yes. In fact, I… Might have said something about the situation. On Twitter.”

All thoughts of where Steve might or might not be looking flee instantly.

“ _What?_ ”

Steve’s chin raises slightly, a sign that he’s not about to feel embarrassed about it. “Not by name. Sam wouldn’t let me do that in case the asshole sues for libel.”

“Sam _let_ you do this?”

Steve nods and pulls his phone out of his pocket, flicks over to Twitter. He hands the phone over to Bucky and continues to talk as Bucky reads what he wrote. “He was pretty upset on your behalf too.”

**[@SGR_Official: To all of those tweeting me trying to bring certain photos to my attention, I’m aware of them. Might I remind everybody that sharing photos without somebody’s express consent is both illegal and morally wrong. That includes RTing.]**

**[SGR_Official: And to those of you trying to shame my partner, please stop. James Barnes is an intelligent, kind-hearted Omega and he means the world to me. If he made any mistake at all, it was dating his ex, a sorry excuse for a man who gives Alphas a bad name.]**

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He wants to fling his arms around Steve and kiss him senseless but that’s… He can’t do that because this isn’t real. Steve’s waded in to defend his reputation, risking his own in the process, and Bucky doesn’t know what it means. If it means anything at all.

He’s too afraid to ask in case it doesn’t.

“You… You Tweeted that about me?” he asks, sounding - he realises - a little awed.

Steve picks up on it, somehow manages to look broader and more of a presence than he usually does. “Yep.” 

“You…” Bucky chuckles as he recognises Steve’s posturing and the slight smile curling the corner of his mouth. “Are you proud of that?”

Steve smiles broadly. “Yep.”

“Stevie,” he says fondly.

Steve ducks his head a little, abashed. “I just don’t like them talking about you like you did something wrong.”

Bucky shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t care.” He realises as he says it that it’s mostly true. He looks good in the photos that he’s seen and whilst he’d rather they’re not on the internet forever, there’s nothing he can do about it to remove them. He doesn’t think that even Tony can make that happen. “Let them talk. What do you need?”

“Nothing…” Steve says quickly, then hesitates before revising his statement. “No, that’s- Maybe a hug? My instincts are shot to shit. Wait- no. I should be comforting you.”

The itchy feeling that had come with his privacy being breached has gone away and Bucky feels razed by Steve’s admission. Like some sort of wall has been toppled and they can both see each other more clearly. It’s not a small thing for an Alpha to admit that he _needs_ an Omega and Bucky wants to be the best he can be. It’s something his instincts are screaming for him to do but he feels like even if he didn’t have them, he’d want to do this anyway. 

He smiles and reaches for Steve’s hand, pulls him towards the large sectional sofa. “C’mon, let’s go cuddle and watch a movie,” he suggests. “We can use the blanket that smells like me. You like that, right?”

Steve nods quickly and takes a seat as Bucky goes to his window seat and brings back the blankets and cushions piled up on there. They don’t smell strongly of him, he’s not been around for that long, but he knows it will help. “Yeah, I do.” Steve pulls at the blanket, starts to arrange it. “Are you sure?”

Bucky nods and sits, arranging himself like he does for Avengers movie nights. His back is half-against Steve’s chest and he’s sitting over his lap. Steve’s arm is around him and a mound of blankets is covering them both. He thinks - hopes - that it’s enough contact to reassure him. “Sure am.”

It’s instinct that makes him angle his face upwards to kiss Steve softly, trying to offer more reassurance. He realises _what_ he’s doing a couple of seconds after and pulls back, although not without noticing that Steve hasn’t moved a muscle.

Fuck.

“What was that for?” Steve asks, his expression unreadable to Bucky.

“Just because.” Bucky bites his lip, worries that he’s gone too far. “Is… Is that too much?”

“No, it’s-” Steve seems to stop himself from answering, nods tightly instead. “It helps.”

“Then it’s fine,” Bucky replies, settling down again and reaching across him for the remote. “God help you when you finally find your Omega, Steve. They’ll have to sit on you to calm you down if something like this happens.”

Steve doesn’t laugh at his poor joke but Bucky doesn’t look up, too engrossed in finding something for them both to watch on the TV. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess they will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter.... Vermont!
> 
> Kudos and comments are love, as ever. Thank you so much to those of you who send them. It truly brightens up my day! 
> 
> Comment or come talk to (or yell at) me about this on [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for the awesome beta job.
> 
> Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.
> 
> Thank you for all the love for the last chapter! For all those hating Brock - you're right to hate him. He is not redeemable in this fic at all. And whilst he doesn't get screen-time to talk with Bucky in this fic, if I write the outtakes/Steve's POV then there will definitely be a scene there at a later date. ;)

Bucky doesn’t know what he was expecting from Tony’s cabin. Well, he supposes that he was actually expecting something closer to a cabin rather than the large lodge set on sprawling, landscaped grounds. The main lodge is vast enough, but it turns out that that isn’t extra enough for Tony Stark. There’s other buildings on the property too, providing more privacy for invited guests than a simple guest room setup.

Bucky and Steve have been assigned one of these buildings.

Bucky and Steve are now looking at the large - like California King large - double bed dominating the bedroom. It’s ensconced in an imposing wooden frame and the sheets look luxurious and crisp. Bucky wants to spend the entire holiday lounging in them like some sort of modern Emperor and he knows that if Steve wasn’t here, he’d do exactly that.

Bucky looks away from the bed of his dreams and notices Steve’s frowning. He makes a questioning noise which gets Steve’s attention.

“Shit.”

It’s not precisely what Bucky hoped to hear Steve say in relation to him and a bed but he knows, is self-aware enough, to realise that his fantasies are beyond ludicrous. Becca is going to have to thump some sense into him when this is all over, set him up on some terrible dates until he realises that Steve isn’t the one.

He walks closer and feels the fabric, the silky cotton feeling just as he thought it would under his fingers. “Huh, does he do this often?”

“What?” Steve asks, sounding confused.

Bucky snorts and gives him a playful look. “Give people their own sex cabins.”

“Sex _what_?” Steve asks, flushing pink in that way that Bucky loves. He looks awkward, anything _but_ Captain America, and it’s a side of him that Bucky doesn’t think others get to see much.

Bucky gestures around the room. There’s a fireplace - he’s not going to need that when Steve is like a furnace - a window seat stocked with cushions and blankets and a door that Bucky will bet his life savings - meagre though they are - leads to a huge bathroom. “Well, what else are we supposed to do when this is the biggest piece of furniture in the cabin?”

Steve averts his eyes from the bed, looking out of the window instead. There’s a porch out there with a hot tub.

A fucking hot tub.

Bucky is in love with this entire thing. From the Quinjet - which was really cool even though Natasha wouldn’t let him anywhere near the controls - to the rustic elegance of their three room cabin and now the hot tub with views over a snowy, white vista. How he wishes, _wishes_ for Steve to feel the same way he does, because this is the most romantic thing he’s ever experienced in his life.

Steve interrupts his reverie, thankfully before he can think about how Steve’s beard would feel against his thighs in too much detail. An erection isn’t what he needs right now. “I can ask for another room, come up with something about how I’m still injured and we can’t sleep together-

“That’s not going to work,” he replies, allowing himself to dramatically fall back against the bed. “Not when I’ve been staying at the Tower for the last week. They already think we’re sleeping together, Steve.”

“So… You’re okay with this?”

Steve’s tone sounds hopeful and Bucky lifts up, props himself on his elbows.

“Sure,” he says. “I mean the bed’s as big as your one in the Tower and we’ve napped on that.”

“Yeah but... “

Bucky can tell that Steve’s struggling with something. He also knows enough of Steve right now to know that it’s unlikely he’ll say what’s bothering him on the first try. Steve’s a fixer, a care-taker. He likes to think of solutions rather than problems. “But what?”

Steve shrugs but it looks awkward. “Naps are different and I was sick.”

“Oh.” Bucky’s grip clenches on the sheets as he realises what Steve’s saying. Steve doesn’t _want_ to share the bed with him. “Oh… Well, I can take the couch-”

“No!” Steve interrupts loudly.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “No?”

Steve shakes his head, chin raised in that manner that makes Bucky want to acquiesce and let Steve look after him. “No. If anything, I can take the couch.”

Bucky groans and flops back on the bed. “Steve, this is ridiculous. You’re not going to ravish me in my sleep, the bed’s huge - shit, do you think it’s custom? Of course it’s custom, my boss is ridiculous - and it looks comfortable.” He wriggles a little. “It is comfortable. We’ll be fine. Besides, we’re supposed to be a couple in love, right? It would look weird if we weren’t doing this.”

Steve’s quiet for a moment and Bucky wonders what he’s said this time. Or whether Steve’s still not saying what’s bothering him. “Right, you’re right.” And that sounds wrong coming out of Steve’s mouth but he’s already turning and heading to the doorway. “I’ll go and get the luggage from the living room.”

“Steve,” Bucky calls, falters when Steve turns to look at him. “Um, is everything okay?”

“Sure.” Steve smiles softly. “Why wouldn’t it be? Now, seeing as we’re a couple in love, you lay back and I’ll go get our bags. I don’t want you lifting a finger.”

And Bucky really can’t argue with that.

  


* * *

  


Bucky wakes up feeling warm. His dick’s hard, which isn’t unusual most mornings, and he doesn’t even bother to open his eyes as he trails his hand down and into his underwear to jerk off. Bucky hums sleepily as he first wets his fingers with slick and then circles his dick with a loose fist. He pumps it lazily, a mixture of precome and slick helping him smooth the way.

He lets himself fall half asleep and back into a daydream, imagines himself in the Tower with Steve in that big bed of his. Bucky on his back with Steve on top of him, weight holding him down and making him feel grounded. Owned. Those large hands of his holding him open as he slides home. The feeling of being _filled_ , of feeling that fat knot nudge against his hole as he drives in over and over. A spiral of heat shoots up Bucky’s spine and he groans, tightens his grip a little. 

He shifts his hips impatiently, wishes that he was there instead of his shoebox of an apartment in Brooklyn. He daydreams some more and imagines lazy mornings with Steve, sleeping with his back against Steve’s solid chest. His ass flush against Steve’s cock, slick making it easy for him to slide back in if he was still stretched from the night before. Bucky whimpers, thumb swiping over his slit. The sensation makes him shiver and he turns his head into the pillow, not bother to bite off a moan.

“Buck?” 

“Steve…” he moans, shifting back against- 

Wait. 

He’s not in Brooklyn. He’s not in his apartment. 

He’s not humping a pillow. 

That’s… That’s Steve’s cock. Steve’s morning wood to be precise. 

Steve hasn’t ravished Bucky in his sleep as he seemingly feared he might. Quite the fucking opposite, actually. 

“Buck!” Bucky’s eyes fly open as he realises Steve’s awake, that it was his voice that woke him up. It’s too late for his body however, worked up from his own hand and the proximity to somebody he finds attractive. His spine seizes as his orgasm rushes through him, hiding his head in the pillow as he feels pleasure and panic warring. “Ohhh- Oh _fuck_!” 

He’s come in his underwear. Bucky wants to die.

“What-”

“Nothing, nothing.” Bucky wipes his hand on the inside of his boxers, thanks every deity in the known universe that he erred on the side of caution and wore absorbent underwear to bed. He’s still gasping for breath when he realises he hasn’t explained. “Um. Nothing, I need to go to the bathroom.”

“You o-” Steve’s silent and Bucky risks a look behind him. He can smell it himself now, that honey-sweet scent of his arousal and nothing’s hiding it. Steve smells like musk, like something Bucky wants to cover himself in. “Oh.”

He offers a completely panicked smile. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Just… Normal healthy sex drive.” As if it’s completely fucking normal for him to rock up on Steve’s cock in his sleep whilst fantasising about it being in him, about taking all of that length and girth. No, Bucky admonishes himself. Focus. “Fuck. Bathroom. I’m going. Um- Sorry. I’m so sorry, I...”

He hops out of bed and sprints across to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. Shame at what has happened floods him, along with a jittery comedown from his orgasm, and he moves to the window to open it, breathing in the fresh, crisp Vermont air. 

“You know it’s perfectly normal-”

“Oh my God. No. Let’s just… Pretend it never happened,” he calls back, leaning on the windowsill and looking out at the snowy vista. 

Steve doesn’t respond any further and he sighs, banging his head against the sill once before the rational part of his brain tells him that he doesn’t need concussion _and_ anxiety.

How the fuck does he come back from this?

  


* * *

  


Christmas Day, it turns out, revolves mostly around presents and food. Which is something, unsurprisingly, that Bucky can get behind. It doesn’t differ too much from spending the holidays with his own family. Occasionally Winnie will make them go to a midnight mass, but it’s something they’ve done less and less since Bucky and Becca hit their teens. 

After the inauspicious start to the morning - and Steve waving away his apologies after taking a long time showering - which Bucky doesn’t want to think about _too_ much or it’ll make his brain explode - Bucky’s on his best behaviour. He’s dressed in his christmas sweater - he’d steered clear of his flirtier ‘Jingle My Bells’ and opted for a red knit with ‘Merry Drunk I’m Christmas’ emblazoned on the front - and jeans, and he’s sat on the end of the couch.

The main house, now Bucky’s explored it a little, is a testament to modern architecture and luxury. The great room - as Tony grandiosely calls it - is dominated by two semi-circular cream couches. There’s bookcases filled with books and obviously expensive knick-knacks but it doesn’t feel imposing. Photos are dotted around, mostly of Tony and Pepper, and Bucky can tell there’s been an effort to at least try and home-ify such a large space. A floating fireplace separates the living area from the dining room, with a long dining table set for ten people, and there’s floor to ceiling windows throughout framing idyllic winter views.

Bucky wants to move here. Permanently.

Bucky had ended up _not_ buying presents for the other Avengers. He’d spoken with Steve about it and got a shake of the head, a promise that his name had already been added to the gift tags. It’s a relief because Bucky hadn’t been sure what to buy them - he suspects they mostly love weapons and he doesn’t have any underworld contacts that can buy him grenades.

“Here.” He pulls a few packages out of the pile surrounding them. They’re wrapped nicer than usual, Bucky having not wanted to make a mess out of the fancy wrapping paper that got delivered to Steve’s apartment. 

Steve looks up from reading the back of a book that Sam’s given him, one of a fantasy series that he thought Steve would like. “What?”

“Presents, Steve.” He gestures around the room, smiles teasingly. “In case you haven’t noticed, Old Man Rogers, it’s Christmas and we do these new-fangled things called- Mmph.”

He’s cut short as Steve kisses him silent. It’s a brief, perfunctory thing that would be completely normal for a couple but it still leaves Bucky stunned and wanting more.

“Smart ass, I know what a present is,” Steve murmurs, clearly enjoying the way Bucky’s blushing if his smile is anything to go by. He picks up a slim box and passes it over. “Here’s yours.”

Bucky, because he is a child and because his mom is not around to tell him off for it, rattles it. “This is suspiciously light.”

Steve snorts and shakes his head. “What did you expect? A bag full of toys-”

Tony cackles at that, making both of them turn to face him. “That’s what I wanted to get you two but Pepper insisted that sex toys weren’t appropriate.”

Bucky groans and shakes his head. “They’re not appropriate. You’re _my boss_.”

“Hey, I’m your boss that didn’t fire you for your nude-”

“ _Tony_.” Steve’s tone is brusque, hard.

“What? I’m merely saying that I’m incredibly benevolent, understanding, handsome, humbl-” A chocolate truffle smacks into his temple. “Argh. Barton!”

Clint shrugs, picking up the large mug of coffee he’s been sipping on all morning. Natasha has one too. Bucky is willing to bet there’s more than just coffee in them. “You were falling into a villain monologue. Couldn’t be helped.”

Tony points accusingly at a dark brown smudge on the fabric next to him. “There is chocolate on my cream couch. You monster.”

“As if you haven’t done worse,” Pepper says dryly, looking away from a box with some sparkly earrings. “Thank you, Tony.”

“Pepper! I’m betrayed. Truly, utterly betrayed.”

Steve grabs Bucky’s chin - not as forcefully as Bucky would like - and forces him to focus. Bucky resists the urge to whimper but it’s a hard-fought victory. “You mind if we open our presents and ignore these lunatics?”

Bucky acts on impulse, leans forward to kiss Steve because he can. “They’re your lunatics, Steve.”

“A choice I regret daily,” he says, chuckling at the assorted aggrieved noises the Avengers make but not paying them any mind. He holds up two presents. “What do you want me to open first?”

“Those,” Bucky instructs, pointing to another larger present. “Big one last.”

He watches in barely suppressed glee as Steve carefully opens the two smaller presents. He is definitely _not_ a ripper. It strikes Bucky anew that this is a man who was created for violence and yet he has the capacity to be so tender and gentle. His stomach flips with the realisation and he resists the urge to grab Steve’s hands and kiss them from fingertip to palm.

He’d spoken to his dad for advice on what to get Steve, his father the only one with any artistic ability - or interest - in the Barnes family. Bucky knew that Steve _had_ drawn and painted, and also knew from their brunch with his family that Steve hadn’t done much of it since coming out of the ice. He hopes he hasn’t overstepped with the presents but it had felt right at the time. 

Steve’s looking down at the watercolour brushes, stroking over their ends. 

“Bucky…” He seems lost for words. “These…”

“Dad said they were good,” Bucky jumps in, tries to fill the silence because he doesn’t know how Steve feels and it’s making him feel like his skin is too small. “I don’t know much about art, I’m all about engineering, but I thought they’d be okay and if not then I have the receipt-”

“Buck, they’re…” Steve looks up and smiles at him. It’s a small one but it means the world to Bucky. “They’re great.”

“Really?” he asks, tension dropping away with a heavy exhale. “I… I wasn’t sure on the brand, dad gave me a bunch, but I did some research and Winsor and Newton were around when you were young. I don’t know if you ever saw any-”

“I did. In an art store in Manhattan back in the thirties or forties. I didn’t think back then that I’d ever have the opportunity to have any…” He leans forward and kisses Bucky, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “That’s really thoughtful. Thank you.”

Steve doesn’t move his hand away when he sits upright and so Bucky turns and kisses the palm. “You’re welcome,” he says, chuckles when Steve’s hand moves up to ruffle his hair a little. “Hey! I styled this. Don’t ruin it.”

Steve tugs on one of the braids. “I like it.”

“It took me long enough,” he replied, omitting from saying that he only did it because Steve had taken so long in the shower that he had to do something with his nervous energy. Other than drown himself in the hot tub. “The big one now.”

This parcel is more of a risk but hopefully Steve doesn’t see it as Bucky trampling over unspoken boundaries. It’s a known fact that Alphas can get incredibly touchy about their territories and by rights, only their partners should really try to decorate but when Bucky had seen this, he’d thought it might appeal to Steve.

It’s a fancy digital canvas. To look at it, it looks like a regular picture frame but Steve can change the subject of the picture with anything he wants. Bucky’s already loaded it up with some artwork, mostly focusing on the artists he’d heard Steve discussing with his dad, the rest a result of a late night google search.

“It’s… I’ve not seen your place in Brooklyn but I thought that the Tower was a bit bare and that this way, you could decide on what sort of art you wanted before buying any,” he explains at Steve’s questioning look. “I loaded it up with some I think you’ll like but you can have up to like a thousand.”

Steve smiles at him. It’s a blinding smile and Bucky feels his stomach flip with want. “I love it, Buck. Thank you for noticing. Decoration is… I don’t want to stereotype but it’s more an Omega’s domain, isn’t it?” 

“You don’t mind?” he checks.

“Mind?” Steve shakes his head at the question. “You have to know by now that I like having you around.”

“Oh…” Bucky says softly, bites at his lower lip. Is Steve saying what Bucky thinks he is saying? “I wasn’t sure-”

“Come on, Buckster,” Tony chides, obviously bored of opening his presents. “Open your present from Steve. We want to see if you’ve been knotty or nice-”

Sam groans and when Bucky looks across, he’s giving Tony a look that could curdle milk. Tony looks unfazed. Natasha, strangely, looks amused which makes Bucky think he was definitely onto something when he thought that she and Clint were drinking something stronger than coffee. “Sometimes, you can be a complete ass.”

“C’mon.” Steve gets to his feet and pulls Bucky up with a hand under his elbow, guiding him up off the sofa.

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Where are we going?”

Steve glares at Tony but his gaze seems to soften when it lands on Bucky. “Somewhere where this crowd of jokers can’t interrupt every two seconds.” 

He slides his hand down to hold Bucky’s as he leads him out of the great room and down the hallway. There’s a door on the left and he opens it, guides them both inside. It’s a smaller sort of study with panoramic views - Bucky’s starting to think that even the restroom has a view here - and a couple of sofas. There’s also built-ins on the back wall housing a great deal of books.

“This is nice. I mean this entire place is nice, it’s like some architect’s wet dream, but I like this room,” Bucky says, giving Steve’s hand a squeeze before he moves to sit on the sofa. The fire is lit and it makes him shiver with happiness. “It’s cosier… I don’t know, can you have too much square footage? Is that a thing or is that anti-American to say?”

Steve snorts and takes a seat opposite him, relaxing in a way he hadn’t been in the other room surrounded by the others. Bucky sadly supposes that it’s due to the fact that they don’t need to put on a show when it’s just the two of them. “You’re asking the wrong person considering I grew up in an apartment about the size of this room,” he replies. “But this is where I tend to hang out when I’m here and staying in the main house. There’s books, a fire and a view. It sounds simple but it’s all I need in my downtime.”

Bucky hums, speaks without thinking, “You promised me ice-skating though.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, obviously not expecting the left-field suggestion. “You still want to ice-skate?”

“So long as you’ll catch me like you promised to,” Bucky says, laughing softly.

“I don’t break a promise, Buck.” Steve’s eyes light with humour and the corner of his lips curves into a definite smirk. It’s the one that makes Bucky want to jump him. “And if you want me to catch you like a damsel in distress-”

“Urgh, there will be _no_ swooning, Rogers,” he warns although he’s not sure that he’s telling the truth. He’d happily swoon in Steve’s arms if it means getting those hands on him but he knows it would be disingenuous to do so. He is really bad at ice-skating though so there’s half a chance.

Belatedly he realises he’s still holding his present and gives it a shake. “Can I open my present please?”

“Sure. I… I hope you like it.”

Bucky quirks an eyebrow in a questioning look but all he gets back is a shake of the head. The present suddenly feels like a portent and he carefully unwraps it, fingers not entirely steady. There’s a box inside and when he opens it, there’s a NASA keyring and a letter. A cursory scan takes his breath away.

Steve’s bought him a trip to NASA. No, that’s not right. Steve has personally arranged an access all areas trip to NASA.

He chokes out, “Steve.”

“If it’s too-”

“How did you know I wanted to go to NASA?” he asks, voice wobblier than he’d like. He can’t look up at Steve, can’t meet those eyes and only see friendship there. “I… I know we haven’t talked about it even if it’s literally something I promise myself I’ll do every year.”

“I might have been out of line for doing it but I spoke to Becca-”

Bucky’s eyes fly up at that admission and he gapes. “What?”

Steve sighs. “You’re mad, aren’t you?”

Bucky shakes his head quickly. “I’m not mad,” he promises. “I’m confused though. Why? You could have gotten me… Anything and I would have been happy.” His heart is in his throat when he asks, “Why would you go through the effort of doing this?”

Steve doesn’t answer instantly, seemingly weighing up his words. “Because you deserve to have what you want for Christmas, Bucky. You’ve done a lot for me, I mean you’re here for Christmas putting up with Tony’s terrible puns, and I wanted you to have something special.” He smiles slightly. “And I know you well enough to be sure that you’d put effort and thought into what you got me.”

Bucky laughs because it’s so Steve. It’s thoughtful, expensive - but in a not-flashy way. Steve doesn’t spend money for money’s sake, he likes to care-take in a way that really appeals to Bucky... And gets him hot. “That’s really… I’m really going to NASA?” he asks excitedly.

Steve seems to relax when he hears Bucky laugh, laughs back. “You are. I’ll organise it whenever you want to go and of course I’ll pay for you and your guest to go-”

Bucky’s stomach swoops. It feels like a balloon has been popped in his chest and he knows Steve will smell the distress. He tries to think happy thoughts but he knows he isn’t successful when Steve frowns. “You don’t want to come with me?”

“I didn’t want to presume anything,” Steve non-answers, inches his hand to cover Bucky’s instinctively.

Bucky decides to be brave and ask for what he wants. He takes a deep breath and tries to order his thoughts. “I… It’s up to you, of course, but I’d like you to be there seeing as you’ve bought this for me in the first place,” he states, backpedals slightly. “We’re both adults… I’d like to think we could stay friends after this.”

Steve squeezes his hand with his own. “I’ve told you before, Buck. You can have whatever you want.”

Bucky’s about to reply but there’s suddenly yelling, doors opening and closing, and Steve is on his feet in a second, Bucky only a second behind.

“Stay here-”

Bucky rolls his eyes because that’s not happening. He’s seen Bond films, he knows that he’ll end up being cornered by the villain if he stays here on his own. “Yeah, don’t even suggest it. I’m coming with you.”

“Jarvis,” Steve asks tersely. “Status report?”

Jarvis replies instantly. “Captain, the other Avengers have regrouped outside and are expecting you and Mr Barnes to join them.”

Bucky looks at Steve, both of them seemingly surprised that he’s not being forced to stay in the room. “What?”

Steve frowns but gestures for him to come along. The two of them quickly put on their snow boots and coats, Steve zipping up Bucky’s jacket before he can do it himself. When they head outside, it’s deathly silent. The only thing Bucky can hear is the wind through the trees, everything oddly muffled in the deep snow. Bucky can tell that Steve doesn’t like this one bit by the way he’s scanning their environs and he wonders if this was a good idea. Maybe he should have stayed in the house.

There’s the crack of a twig and a soft whistling sound. Bucky goes down face first into the cold, surprisingly hard snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Errr, I'm going to go hide in a bush...
> 
> Kudos and comments are love, as ever. Thank you so much to those of you who send them. The AO3 comment email is about the only one I love to see in my inbox.
> 
> Comment or come talk to (or yell at) me about this on [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/).


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for the awesome beta job.
> 
> Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.
> 
> Thank you for reading along. :) I love reading your comments and thoughts, really brightens up my horrifically busy day! Also exciting news - I've finished writing TWIFFY. So I can solemnly swear that this will not be an abandoned WIP. I've also started outlining a couple of my fics for Shrunkyclunks bang & Stucky bang so feel free to add me as an author subscribe if you want to see those later in the year.

Bucky heaves in a breath, struggles to get air from where his head is pushed into the snow. The wind’s been knocked out of him and it takes him a moment to muddle through what has actually happened, panic surging when he realises why he can’t get a decent breath. 

He’s on his front in the snow, Steve pressing him down further into it. Steve who presumably can’t tell that Bucky can’t breathe.

He hears what he _thinks_ is a smothered giggle. It doesn’t come from Steve.

Steve rolls off of him quickly and Bucky gulps air, coughing. He looks up and tries to work out what’s going on. Steve took him down, Bucky assumes that he didn’t just tackle him for no reason. But Steve is off of him now and sitting up which has to mean that he doesn’t think they’re in danger, not when they’re out in the middle of the front lawn like this.

But why did he?

The answer is provided when Natasha throws another missile towards them, the icy white snowball hitting Steve in the side. Bucky quickly lies back down so he’s not an obvious target and Steve follows, lying on his side. They’re in a bit of a natural dip but Bucky doesn’t think they’ll be safe for long.

“You saved me from a snowball?” he asks, making a face as he shakes his head and snow scatters from his hair. He hadn’t put on a hat, it hadn’t seemed important.

Steve flushes pink, the blush creeping above his beard line. “I thought… It was a grenade.”

“You…” He laughs, a proper belly laugh that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He’s so _happy_. “ _Steve_.” 

Steve chuckles despite himself. “Stop laughing.”

“No, won’t-” He’s stopped by Steve rolling half on top of him, pressing him back into the snow and kissing him. It’s unexpected and Bucky gasps into it, inadvertently deepening it into something more. Steve presses his advantage without any hesitation, kisses Bucky like it means something. He only stops when another snowball hits his back, causing him to grunt.

Bucky gasps, senses reeling, and looks around Steve. He doesn’t see anything until Clint waves to help him out, and Bucky sees that he’s halfway up a tree. “Clint, that’s cheating!”

Clint’s guffaw is quickly nixed, as a hidden Wanda takes advantage of his signalling to Bucky and sends a tidal wave of snow his way with her red glow, covering him from head to toe in the white stuff.

Steve’s jaw firms. “Hold on.”

“Hold- Steve!” he yelps as Steve gets to his feet and hoists Bucky up with him, one hand on his back, the other under Bucky’s ass. He clings like a koala as Steve races towards a clump of trees, super-speed making Bucky’s head blur a little. He knows, logically, that Steve is a super human but he hasn’t experienced that in person. He can’t help but think of how easily Steve can hold him down and he feels an undertone of sweetness in his scent as he gets slick. 

“Put me down,” Bucky gasps, trying not to let his fantasies take over. He’s never been picked up like that before, never been manhandled like that. He’s tall and broad for an Omega; he’s never felt dainty. “That’s… Don't I feel heavy?”

He knows he doesn’t hide the speculative look on his face quick enough when Steve smirks. “Nope.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, trying to find a sentence that isn’t ‘pick me up and do that again’.

“You like that, Buck?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an ans-” His prim declaration is cut short by another snowball hitting him on his left shoulder. “Fuccccck!”

“Get down!” Steve yanks him down behind a nearby bush, eyes scanning the terrain. “I can’t see Tony which means Pepper’s probably trying to talk him out of using the suit and launching an aerial attack. She’ll claim it’s unfair because you’re here and because Bruce doesn’t like the cold that much. Throw too many snowballs at him and piss him off and you’ve got the Hulk.” Bucky’s eyes go wide at that. “Sam will do though - it’s his biggest chance of winning - so we need the tree cover-”

Bucky interrupts him. “Are you seriously treating this like a mission?”

“Yes.” At Bucky’s chuckle, he stops looking around and focuses on Bucky instead. It takes a second before he seems to realise what he was saying and he huffs out a laugh. “Shit. This isn’t how most people do snowball fights, is it?”

“Well, most people don’t have super powers,” Bucky reasons, shuffling closer so that he can look through the gap Steve’s using. “But keep going. I need to defend your honour after Clint got you in the back. Can’t trust an archer.”

“You’d defend my honour?” Steve’s question sounds unsure and Bucky turns to look at him.

“For all intents and purposes, you’re my Alpha,” he points out. “What kind of Omega do you think I am that I’d let them get away with that shit? Hell, what kind of Brooklynite do you think I am?”

“The best.” Steve says softly and there’s a moment, a moment that has Bucky shuffling towards Steve to kiss him. It’s a moment that is suddenly broken by another snowball hitting a tree next to them, jolting Bucky into full awareness. He is having a snowball fight with superheroes. He needs to _focus_. 

Steve seems to sense what he’s thinking because he shakes his head and smiles wryly. “We need to move, find a new spot. How good are you at climbing trees?”

Bucky snorts because what is his life that climbing trees with Steve Rogers isn’t the most insane thing he’s heard of doing. “Bold of you to assume I’ve ever tried to climb one, Stevie, but I’ll give it my best.”

  


* * *

  


“I hate the outdoors!”

They’re hiking. Steve had said nothing about Bucky’s impromptu pillow wall this morning - Bucky had waited until Steve had fallen asleep before making his move and making sure he couldn’t hump himself silly against Steve’s crotch once more - but he had dragged him out of bed and told Bucky to get dressed.

Well, he hadn’t dragged. No. Steve had given him a giant mug of coffee and a hopeful smile.

Asshole.

Bucky still feels like he’s only hiking in this godforsaken wilderness under duress though. And because he wanted to wear some of his hastily acquired snow gear which he spent a bit too much money on. 

It wasn’t at all because he wanted to check out Steve’s ass in his jeans.

Steve looks back over his shoulder, forcing Bucky to hastily raise his eyes from Steve’s ass. “You told me you loved the outdoors.”

“I like drinking on patios, Steve,” Bucky snarks back, “It still counts as outdoors.” He gestures around him. “There’s fresh air on patios.”

“Not in Brooklyn there isn’t,” Steve teases, stopping to let Bucky catch-up. He isn’t exactly behind and he has plenty of stamina, but the snow is heavy going and surprisingly tiring to walk through. Steve points to the crest of the hill that isn’t far in front of them. “Look, just over this hill and then you’ll be able to see the view.”

Bucky gives him a baleful look as he passes him and trudges up the path, sinking a little in the fresh powder until his foot reaches the more compacted snow underneath. “This better be- Oh.” He stops grumbling as the view unfolds in front of him. “Oh, it’s gorgeous.”

And it is. The hills are covered in a blanket of snow but it’s like a picture postcard. The shaggy fir trees look like they’re covered in icing sugar, there’s snow-covered red barns dotted around the place. Bucky’s never been anywhere like it and it’s dazzlingly beautiful. It feels like something you’d see in a Hallmark movie and Bucky thinks, wistfully, that this entire experience has been like a movie - accidental orgasm aside. 

“I thought you’d like it up here.” Steve’s voice, when it comes, is closer than he imagined. Steve’s standing almost within touching distance and Bucky wants to close it so much. “This is the trail I usually hike when I’m on my own.” Steve does close the distance then and holds his arm up, pointing. “See that there?”

Bucky follows where he’s looking, frowning as he sees what Steve’s looking at. It’s a flat sort of roundness that denotes- “Is that… Is that a frozen lake?”

“It is.” Steve chuckles, voice close to Bucky’s ear. “You did say you wanted to go ice-skating, didn’t you?”

Bucky jumps a little in excitement. He can’t help it. He turns around to look at Steve, nearly falling back in the snow. Steve grabs hold of him and hauls him upright before he can make a complete fool of himself. “Is it safe to? We don’t have skates!”

“Well, no we don’t but-” He presses a button on his fancy smart watch. “Skates will be arriving in about two minutes courtesy of one very hungover Falcon. And I checked this morning before I woke you up; it’s thick enough for us to skate on.”

Bucky knows he has hearts in his eyes. Sad hearts. This is the single most romantic moment of his life and it’s not even with somebody who wants to date him for real. “ _Steve_.”

“What? Can you blame me?” Steve puts his hands up as if to say ‘don’t shoot’. “Who wouldn’t want a gorgeous Omega falling into their arms every two seconds?”

The humour - for that’s what Bucky takes it as - breaks the tension and Bucky snorts although he’s secretly pleased that Steve has noticed it. “Flatterer.” 

Steve laughs. “I’d believe you didn’t know how beautiful you are if you weren’t preening quite so much. You know I can smell it.”

“Cannot!” Bucky gasps, aghast.

“Can too.” He’s about to say more when Bucky hears a noise, turns his head to see Sam making a beeline for them wearing his wings over his… Oh Jesus, his Army t-shirt and pyjama pants. Sam drops a duffle bag down to Steve but doesn’t come in to land, remaining a good ten feet off the ground.

“I’m not here to help you out with big romantic gestures, Rogers. We are even for Chicago now, y’hear?” he calls out, looking grumpy and cold. Bucky recognises the face from his engineers. It’s the face of a man who needs vast quantities of coffee before he can function in the morning. And a hot shower. At the _’thanks, Sam’_ , Sam waves a dismissive hand, nods at Bucky, and flies back off.

Steve crouches to pick up the bag, hefting it over his shoulder with ease. “You ready?”

Bucky nods and impulsively steps forward to kiss Steve. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bucky unsurprisingly is terrible at ice-skating. Steve is unsurprisingly very good at catching him before he hits the ice. They make it work and Bucky thinks, not for the first time, how much they complement each other. His stomach aches terribly at the thought that in two weeks time, this will all be nothing but a memory.

  


* * *

  


“Mistletoe!” 

They’re sitting around the firepit after dinner, Bucky fitting snugly under Steve’s arm. He’s been looking up at the sky, revelling in the fact that outside of the cities with all their light pollution, the stars are _so_ bright and that he doesn’t need a telescope to see the constellations. It makes excitement tingle through him at the remembrance that Steve has bought him a VIP trip to NASA, that he cared enough to ring Becca and buy Bucky an experience that he could never have dreamed up, let alone hoped for.

He looks up at the shout, somehow unsurprised to see Clint carrying a clump of mistletoe from… Bucky doesn’t know where. If he was asked to guess, he’d answer Tony’s bedroom.

How has he gotten so blasé about superheroes just _being_ around? 

“Really?” Sam asks dryly, looking up from the fire where he’s toasting a s’more. 

“Not for you, bird brain-” Clint drawls, grin bright on his face.

Sam scoffs. “Says you, tweetie pie.”

Tony’s already used the presence of mistletoe as an excuse to kiss Pepper if the muffled giggle is anything to go by. The two of them are sitting just out of Bucky’s sightline and he’s so comfortable and so warm leaching Steve’s heat and scent that he can’t be bothered to move. 

Nat’s look is impish. Bucky’s learned by now that said look is dangerous and usually means somebody is going to end up with snow somewhere unpleasant. “So for who?”

Clint blows her a kiss. “Those of us that have somebody to smooch. Unless Bruce is-”

Bruce looks up from his e-reader at his name, and it takes him a second or two to join the conversation, clearly in his own world. “Keep me out of it. No offence, Sam.”

“None taken, big guy.” Sam picks his s’more off the skewer and plops it on the plate. “Rather exclusionary, isn’t it? Where’s the team spirit?”

Clint steps towards him. “You want to kiss me? I could dig that.”

“Urgh, no.”

Wanda crouches down and kisses Sam’s cheek. “There you go, Sam. Happy Christmas- No, what is the word. Boxing Day?”

Steve chuckles, the sound reverberating underneath his ear. “Hey, Clint - toss that here.” He catches the mistletoe one-handed and it jostles Bucky into sitting upright. Bucky instantly feels cold. “Buck?”

He pouts at being forced to sit up, shivering at the sudden chill. “Yeah?”

“C’mere.” Steve’s lips are warm against his cold ones and he gasps, mouth opening under Steve’s. He’s pretty sure he lets out an embarrassing moan as Steve just _controls_ it, Bucky helpless to do anything but kiss back and sink into it. It’s deep, wet, all-encompassing. His head is spinning with _more, more, more_ and when Steve finally pulls back, he’s gasping and clutching at Steve’s cable knit sweater with his fist.

Bucky makes a mental note to carry mistletoe around for the rest of the holiday.

  


* * *

  


The rest of their vacation goes as Bucky expects it to. There’s a veritable feast of food, there’s masses to drink, there’s terrible singalongs to Christmas songs and plenty of Christmas movies to watch. 

Steve was right in that they all do their own thing. Although all of them are amenable if Bucky suggests doing something as a group, like playing a board game or trying charades. 

(Playing cards doesn’t work, not when Steve counts cards by accident with his eidetic memory, and Nat has a suspicious lucky streak that has Tony storming from the table after losing a third car to her.)

Bucky thinks Pepper appreciates having another non-Avenger around too. The two of them bake cookies one day and ignore the second superhero snowball fight going on outside, this one _with_ full powers allowed.

Steve and Bucky spend much of their time together and Bucky thinks the others hang back a little, give them space. The two of them hike a bit more, take snowmobiles out, sit and read books by the fire in a companionable silence in the smaller study. Steve tries to get him to go for a jog one morning but the look that Bucky gives him soon dissuades him from asking again.

It’s been comfortable. So comfortable. And the kissing is so good. Somehow in the past few days, they’ve become more intimate, more real. Bucky doesn’t even look around to check if somebody’s watching before he kisses Steve. He smells like Steve. He’s even taken some of the pillow wall away because he _likes_ being around Steve and kind of _wants_ to wake up pillowed on that chest of his. He’s starting to think - hope - that Steve might like him back. 

Nobody is that good at pretending, right?

So Bucky is feeling sleepy, tipsy and happy by the time the clock strikes eleven on December twenty eighth. He’s snuggled under a blanket watching the end of A Christmas Story and Steve is… He looks around and realises that Steve isn’t actually sitting with him. He remembers him getting up a little while ago but he’s not come back.

Yawning, he gets to his feet when the credits start to roll and pads in socked feet across to the kitchen. Steve had said something about hot chocolate?

As he approaches, Bucky hears voices, and he slows his pace when he hears Natasha say his name. He knows he _shouldn’t_ eavesdrop, that he’s bound to hear something he doesn’t want to, but something compels him to listen. It’s the part of him that’s desperate to hear that Steve likes him, that Steve _wants_ him in the way that he wants Steve. He thinks, sometimes, that he’s reading the signs right but every time, Steve will end up making some reference to the nature of their relationship and Bucky’s left with jangling nerves, as if he’s fumbled an important pass.

“The One? I don’t know, Nat.”

He stands still. He knows that Steve has to say this, has to make it sound like this so that there’s a valid reason for them to break up in a week or so’s time - and how has that time come around so quickly? - but it still stings.

Natasha’s tone is disbelieving. Bucky can hear it clearly. “You don’t?” She sighs. “Really, Steve?”

“It’s not been that long since I split with Sharon-”

“It’s been over a year.”

“And he had a pretty abusive ex-”

“Piece of shit from what I turned up. Ex-military, shady connections.” Bucky freezes, wondering what exactly she’s found on Brock. Bucky had gotten exceptionally good at not asking questions, not when it got him verbally abused. “You want him taken care of?”

“No, Nat.” Steve coughs, Bucky hears a mug clink on the counter top. “Jesus.”

“I could call in a few favours, call it another Christmas present.”

Steve’s tone is warm, suggesting he has that smirk on his face that Bucky likes. “You know it’s disconcerting when I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“I know.” Nat sounds amused. “So James… You’re not sure?”

“It’s still new.”

“You haven’t said the L-word yet?”

“No. Love… Love is a big word, Nat.” Steve pauses and Bucky nearly falls over his feet to listen in closer. “I know people say it for all sorts of things nowadays but I use it when I feel it. I’m not there with Bucky.”

Bucky bites his lip and realises that all of his feelings make sense. He’s in love. He’s in _love_. Even as he thinks about it, he feels himself start to mourn it, feels a rising panic about the situation that he’s in. He’s in love with somebody who isn’t anywhere near to saying it back. Who never will be because this isn’t real.

He takes a step backwards, then another. Turns before he can trip over something and heads back to the sofa to burrow under his blanket. 

He shouldn’t have listened in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... I *might* have broken Buck Buck for a bit.
> 
> Kudos and comments are love, as ever. Thank you so much to those of you who send them. The AO3 comment email is about the only one I love to see in my inbox.
> 
> Comment or come talk to (or yell at) me about this on [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/).


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for the awesome beta job.
> 
> Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.
> 
> Thanks so much for all the feedback! I get so excited to post new chapters and see what you all think. And for those of you who wanted to know what Bucky's missed doctor appointment would result in... Read on.

“Well, you look a sight.”

Bucky opens the door wider, leans against the frame, and looks at Becca. She looks happy and healthy, with a light tan and freckles dusting her nose. She’s also holding a Christmas present so he’s inclined to let her in regardless of how disgustingly pretty she looks.

He’s a materialistic millennial. Sue him already.

Bucky himself is wearing an AC/DC t-shirt and sweatpants. His freshly washed hair is pulled up into a bun and he hasn’t bothered to try and pretty himself up. He’s been in a funk ever since Steve dropped him off last night, with a light kiss and an _’I’ll see you on Sunday?’_.

Bucky’s just waiting for him to cancel. Come up with some reason why they don’t need to spend New Year’s Eve together too.

He may, _may_ be catastrophizing.

“Happy Christmas to you too. Come on in, why don’t you?”

He steps back so that she can step through, closing the door behind her and hearing the locks kick in. His apartment is more secure than he could even fathom thanks to Maria and her team. There’s bulletproof glass in his large windows, surveillance cameras outside, and motion sensors thanks to his fancy new alarm. He’s literally never moving after this ends.

When it ends.

Oh god.

Becca makes her way to the couch, kicking off her boots as she goes. “Yeah, yeah. You say that like we didn’t talk for an hour on the day itself. Did you have mom calling after a few too many cocktails?”

Bucky laughs, tries to get out of his own head, and follows her over, sitting on the other end of the small-ish grey couch once he’s pushed some of his favourite blankets out of the way. He’s pretty sure they smell of misery right now. “God, yeah. She was talking about how _I’m_ her favourite child.”

“Lies!”

Bucky snorts. “You’ll never know,” he replies solemnly although he knows his eyes are giving him away. “It’s good to see you even if you do look far too happy and healthy after Christmas. Doesn’t Manda usually make like, sixteen side dishes? How was Florida?”

“Hot,” Becca makes a face which Bucky gets. It should be Christmas in New York _always_. “And thanks for the back-handed compliment. I’d say the same but you _do_ look rough so spill. What happened?”

Bucky grunts, gets to his feet and heads towards the refrigerator. He’s not sure he wants to admit to Becca that he’s fallen in love with Steve yet. However, he’s definitely sure that if he is doing this, admitting that he’s fucked it all up, it’s not going to be without some sort of alcohol to hand. “Want a beer?”

“Bucky.”

He takes two beers out and doesn’t look back at her. “What?”

“It’s twelve.”

That does make him turn his head and roll his eyes. “It’s a Saturday and we’re way over twenty one.”

“Yeah, okay.” Becca sighs, scrubs her hand over her face. “Jesus, when did I become the responsible one? I don’t want to be the mom friend.”

Bucky opens both beers and then hands her one as he sits back down, pulling a blanket down around himself for comfort. “Becca, sorry to break this to you but you’ve always been the mom friend.”

“Haven’t.”

“Have.”

“Haven’t- No.” Becca puts a hand up to stop him. “Bucky, what happened? Was it Steve-”

“No!” he refutes, then worries at his lower lip with his teeth as he thinks about it. “Well… Yes but not what you think.”

Becca levels with him with an unimpressed look. It’s eerily close to Winnie’s. “You don’t know what I think.”

Bucky tilts his head back and looks up at the ceiling, exhales noisily. “You think he’s an asshole like Brock, Bec. And he’s nothing like him.”

“Oh, Bucky.” Becca shakes her head and looks… Sad. Rather than angry. Which, okay, is not what he expected. “He’s absolutely nothing like Brock - which we need to talk about by the way - and that’s why he’s dangerous…”

“What do you mean?” he asks, hairs at the back of his neck prickling at the idea of talking about Brock. He decides that they should talk about that first, that he should know what else the prick has done. Bucky had deleted Instagram and Facebook on his winter break and had mostly kept his phone off, not wanting to really deal with the outside world after the whole nudes thing.

“He’s perfect for you. Perfect. And he cares about you-”

“No. Brock,” he cuts in tensely. “What’s that asshole done now?”

Becca raises her eyebrows at him and Bucky gets a blast of neroli. “Did you expect me to just forget the nudes, JimJam?”

“Oh…” Bucky sighs in relief, relaxing back into the couch with a shaky laugh. “Fuck, that feels like so long ago now. Listen, I’m going to press charges.”

“You are?” Becca asks, sounding sceptical.

He snorts. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am,” she replies, looking at him with some concern. “You’ve never stood up to him before… I always thought you were scared of him to be honest.”

It should be galling that his baby sister has seen through his act so clearly. But Bucky knows that he’s no real actor, for all that he tries to pretend that things don’t hurt him.

“I… Maybe I was,” he half-admits, tugging at the label of his beer bottle and starting to peel it. “Not physically but he could… I mean, he was an asshole. But things… Everything’s changed. I realise now that he never really loved me. He thought of me as a possession if anything… And even now. Leaking my nudes? That’s just spite.” He looks over at her. “He doesn’t need the money from something like that.”

Becca nods. “But you’re going to press charges?”

“Yeah.” He’s quiet for a second. “Tony’s going to pay for my lawyers if I need him to-”

“We can afford it.” Becca’s tone is bristling, offended even.

“ _I_ can afford it,” he points out. “I can with the salary I’m on so I’m not going to take him up on it but he made me realise how important it is to Omegas, especially male Omegas. You know that every time I read about an Alpha getting away with this bullshit, it makes my blood boil. I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t stand up for myself.” He shakes his head at the idea of that, thinking back to the protests he’d shown up for in his early twenties. How passionate he’d been about trying to change things. “I haven’t got to worry about Tony firing me so… Yeah, I’m going to press charges against Brock for non-consensual photography.”

Becca places her hand on his shoulder, gives it a quick squeeze. “I’m proud of you, big bro. What does Steve think of this?”

He knows he sounds smug, _far too smug_ , when he says, “I think Steve wanted to rip him limb from limb and if he hadn’t still been injured, he’d have probably done it.”

Becca laughs. “You shouldn’t grin when you say that. Makes you look like a psychopath.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh of his own, tries not to smile quite so widely. “It’s… Okay, I don’t like the whole ‘You Alpha, Me Omega’ thing. You know that. But…”

“But you _do_ like it.” It’s not a question.

Bucky nods and blinks back sudden tears as he thinks back to the conversation he’d heard not two days ago between Nat and Steve. “Yeah. Not that I’m going to have it for much longer.”

“What?” Becca asks.

“We were just dating for the holidays, Becs,” he reminds her. “It’s going to end in a couple of weeks.”

Becca’s silent for a few moments, mouth open in shock. “You… You can’t be that stupid. You have degrees, you’re _smart_ -”

Bucky feels defensive, narrows his eyes at her. “What are you on about?”

“You two are perfect for each other. Fake, pretend, whatever you want to call it.” She shakes her head. “You’re not fooling any of us.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, voices the feeling he hasn’t yet put words to. “I love him.”

“Well, it’s about time you realised it-”

Bucky stops her with a handwave. “No. It’s not… He told Natasha he doesn’t…” he swallows. “I wasn’t supposed to be listening in but I eavesdropped.”

“No!” Becca insists, accidentally spilling beer on the floor as she throws her arms up. “Shit, sorry I’ll clean that up but Bucky, no! You must have misheard.”

He looks away from her, instead focusing on his monstera which needs dusting. The entire apartment needs a clean and that’ll clear his mind for a good hour or so later on. “I didn’t mishear, Becca.”

She shakes her head. “... He’s not that good an actor.”

“Seems he is,” he says humorlessly. “Or… No, I’m not going to put myself down because this isn’t my fault,” he tells himself, looking back at her. “I think he likes me but I’m not _The One_ for him and I already know that he and Sharon ended up breaking up because of that.”

Becca looks sad. “But he is for you.”

“Yeah,” he says, voice cracking on the single syllable.

“Shit,” she breathes. She holds her beer up, clinks it to his. “Shall we drink?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, taking a long pull of his beer in answer. 

He’ll sort out his life tomorrow. For now, getting blackout drunk with his little sister seems like the best idea he’s had all day. It’s definitely a better idea than falling in love with Steve Rogers.

  


* * *

  


“I thought I gave you until the New Year off. Also, it’s a Sunday.”

Bucky looks up from his screen, watching Tony approach from the other end of the office. He’s been there for hours, only getting up from his office chair to go and refill his coffee in the staff kitchen to banish his hangover. Drinking had not been Bucky’s smartest choice, especially when he’d switched to spirits once Becca had left late into the evening. Luckily, the painkillers and coffee have kicked in but he still feels _off_ in a way that feels familiar but he can’t put his finger on it.

He flounders for something to say, decides to tell a white lie. “I… Had nothing to do so I thought I’d come in.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be seeing Capsicle today?” Tony asks, stopping by a nearby desk to pick up a stress ball shaped like a Hulk. “He mentioned it this morning at breakfast.”

Bucky frowns at that because that sounds unusual. Steve keeps to himself _and_ he’d said he was going back to Brooklyn when he had dropped Bucky off a couple of days ago. “You two had breakfast together?”

“Yeah,” Tony replies nonchalantly, chuckling as he squeezes the ball and Hulk’s arms bulk out. “He slept at the Tower last night unexpectedly, so he came up looking for food. We had a false alarm around midnight.”

Bucky’s attention is caught and he feels his heart rate kick up a notch. “Shit. Everyone okay?”

 _Steve. Go find Steve_ , his brain unhelpfully supplies.

“Yeah. Maria quickly realised it was a bored teenager in Eastern Europe - Russia, Ukraine, somewhere like that.” Tony seems completely unconcerned by Bucky’s sudden demeanour which helps to calm him somewhat. “I’ve asked Jarvis to keep an eye on him, see if we can hire him once he turns eighteen-”

“You’re insane.”

“Is that what you always say to people who do your performance review?” Tony snarks back although he’s smiling so Bucky doesn’t think he’s offended. 

He’s also pretty sure that it’s someone named Pete who’ll be doing his performance review - although he wouldn’t be surprised if Tony dropped in just to make things wholly awkward. “It’s my policy to always hire the best. Even if they do come to my attention by working against me and getting me out of bed at midnight.”

He snorts. “All worn out, Tony?”

“Well, Pepper did-”

Bucky holds his hand up and winces. “No, no.” He laughs. “That was a bad question for me to ask.”

“Heh. Maybe,” he concedes, picking up one of the files on Bucky’s desk and leafing through it. “So you’re not seeing Rogers?”

“I feel a bit off,” Bucky admits, feeling that vague sense of worry that he’s felt like this before and yet _hasn’t_. “I didn’t want to get him sick.”

Tony looks up, gives him a withering look. “You know he’s a super soldier, right? He can’t get sick.”

“No, but...” Bucky sighs. “Fine, I didn’t want him to have to look after me when I don’t even know what’s up. I _definitely_ don’t want him to now that I know he was up late. Besides, I thought he was still benched?”

“I’m sorry,” Tony’s voice is full of false sincerity. “Have you met Cap?”

Bucky grunts, looks back at his screen and clicks save on the schematic he’s been reviewing. “He needs to look after himself more.”

“Isn’t that one of the reasons he’s dating you?”

Bucky looks up, confused. “Excuse me?”

“Bucky…” Tony pauses, cocks his head as if something’s just appeared to him. “Has nobody told you that this is the first time he’s actually been benched and hasn’t tried to get around it somehow?”

Bucky feels as if he’s running slow. He doesn’t understand what Tony’s trying to say. “Uh, what?”

Tony puts the file down, stops leaning against the desk. “He usually tries to sneak to the gym, pushes himself way too much. Oh, and reports for duty and argues with the doctors when they tell him that he isn’t fit to be working.” He shakes his head. “God, he can be a real asshole.”

Bucky feels a rush of annoyance pulse through him because Steve _isn’t_ an asshole. He’s a man, a man made of flesh and bone and feelings. He’s not a goddamn weapon. It’s that more than anything that makes him bite out, “Hey! It’s only because he sees his value in what he can do for others. He doesn’t value himself and you guys don’t help-”

“What?” Tony asks, looking taken aback that Bucky has that sort of bite in him.

Bucky hisses through his teeth, annoyed at himself immediately for the outburst. It isn’t his place to say anything but… But it’s frustrating as hell now that he knows Steve better, knows how he thinks. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Ignore-”

“No, no, none of that,” Tony says, crossing his arms. “Say what you want to say, Buckeroo. I won’t get offended. Well, okay- No, I won’t promise that. I’ve been called petty a time or two-”

“You see him as Cap,” Bucky interrupts, not wanting to hear Tony’s monologue on how he’s offended half of Manhattan. “It’s how you refer to him, Tony: Cap, Capsicle, Rogers, Ice Man.” He shakes his head. “He’s _more_ than the title. He’s _Steve_.”

Tony looks discomfited. “I know he is.”

“Does he know that you do? Because I don’t think he does,” Bucky says. “I saw you at Christmas, I saw how you all do things apart. I get that you all have different interests, a shit load of trauma and… It’s not my place to say anything even. But he doesn’t have _anyone_. He had Sam but then he brought him into the Avengers and from what I’ve heard and seen, that’s changed the dynamic up at least a little bit.”

Tony takes a seat on a nearby chair, almost as if his strings have been cut. “Shit.”

“I’m just saying… If anything, if…” He bites his lip, not wanting to voice what’s coming. He has days left, _days_. And if he can do something, _anything_ , to help Steve then it has to be this. He can ensure that his friends are looking out for him, that they’ll be _there_ and that Steve won’t have to go through this alone. “If we break up. Then… You have to look after him because he won’t look after himself.”

Tony snorts. “You’re not going to break up.”

“How…” Bucky stands up from his desk, walks a couple of steps to look out of the window. He’s afraid his face will give him away if he keeps looking at Tony. “Nobody knows what’s in the future.”

“No but you and him?” Tony smiles smugly. “You’re like me and Pep. I can tell.”

Bucky’s not sure he heard correctly and turns to look at the other man.

“Didn’t you…” He’s not sure how to say what he wants to delicately. “I mean, you dated-”

“I fucked half of Manhattan,” Tony agrees, dismissing it with a wave. “But I just hadn’t found Pepper. She keeps me in line if you know what I mean-”

“Got it,” Bucky replies quickly, cutting that story-telling moment off immediately. He knows he’s setting himself up for hurt, like pressing on a sore bruise, when he asks, “You really think me and Steve are like that?”

“Sure do, kid.”

Bucky feels a rush of sadness and longing to see Steve barrel through him like a freight train. He stumbles, catching himself on the corner of his desk before he can fall. Tony darts towards him. “Woah-”

“I’m fine,” he promises, white-knuckling the desk and not looking up. 

Tony’s hand is suddenly touching his forehead to check his temperature and- is he _sniffing_ Bucky? What the fuck? 

“You nearly fainted a second ago so slow your roll,” Tony replies, placing both hands on his shoulders and squeezing comfortingly. “J, can you let Happy know I need him outside in five?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve also taken the liberty of arranging for Elevator E to arrive at the floor and am shutting down Mr Barnes’s laptop.”

Bucky feels the shakiness subside a bit, enough to stand upright properly. His nerves are jangling and above all, he wishes that Steve was around to hold him in those arms of his. “I just feel a bit woozy. And hot. I probably drank too much coffee and need a nap.”

“Uh huh,” Tony says disbelievingly. He reaches to get Bucky’s coat for him, holding it up so Bucky can slide his arms into it. “You’re going home. You look pale as shit.”

“I can get the subway-” Bucky complains.

“Are you kidding me?” Tony asks. “Happy will take you. He’s got a few hours to kill before Pepper wants picking up from one of her fancy boutiques.”

Tony walks him all the way down to the lobby, ensuring that he doesn’t pass out again and actually gets into the car without any more disasters. He talks to Happy once Bucky’s ensconced in the vehicle but Bucky doesn’t care too much. He feels as if he’s burning up and all he wants to do is cover himself in his softest blankets and sleep for a while.

He drops off into a fitful doze as the journey gets underway, traffic surprisingly heavy for a Sunday. When he feels the vehicle come to a stop, he wakes up properly and frowns. 

This isn’t his street. It’s not a street he’s familiar with _at all_.

“Uhhhh,” he starts. “This isn’t my house.”

Happy locks eyes with him in the rearview mirror. “This is the Captain’s residence.”

Bucky is lost for words, brain struggling to work. He feels a sudden wave of warmth at the idea of seeing Steve, even though logically he knows he should be trying to see him _less_. 

Steve. 

Yeah, he’d really like to see Steve right now. 

“This is Steve’s place?”

At the man’s nod, he wipes his hand over his forehead. It’s clammy and he frowns because this isn’t right. “But I need to go home.”

Before Happy can answer, the door is opened and he’s face to face with Steve. Steve who is wearing a thin knit jumper that _clings_ to his body and leaves Bucky speechless for a whole lot of other reasons.

“Buck?” Bucky looks up at him and he isn’t sure what his face is saying but it’s enough for Steve to say, “Fuck.”

“What-” He shakes his head. “I was supposed to be going home. Tony wanted me to- I think I’m sick.”

“Yeah you… You need to be inside,” Steve replies, helping him out of the car. “Thanks for bringing him here, Happy, and sorry about the smell. Buck, hold on-”

“What-” Bucky suddenly feels like he’s been swept off his feet and when he looks down, he realises he has. Steve has him in his arms, bridal-style. He lolls his head against Steve’s chest as the other man carries him up the front steps and into the house.. “Mm, you smell nice.”

“Yeah, you smell…” Steve’s arms tighten around him. “Bucky, are you going into Heat?”

Bucky shakes his head and laughs. “No. Can’t be.”

“Are you sure of that?” Steve asks, tone guarded. “You smell different.”

Bucky shakes his head more emphatically. “I’m wearing blockers-”

“Enhanced senses. I can usually smell you at least a little but especially now, well, I think _anyone_ could smell you-”

“Wait, _what_?” Bucky asks, brain snagging on ‘enhanced senses’. He tilts his head so he can look up at Steve, a confused expression on his face. “You’ve always been able to smell past my blockers?”

Steve looks sheepish about that admission as he carries him through to the living room. Bucky wants to take it all in, wants to see all of Steve's place. The building that he's turned into a home, mostly through his own labour. Steve’s scent is stronger here, far stronger than in the Tower, and Bucky wants to choke himself on it.

He’s getting slicker in his underwear, he can feel it. He’s never been one to produce a lot of slick, not outside of sex, but around Steve… Well, he can’t help it. The mix of scents only serves to make him _drip_.

He can’t remember if he’s wearing slick-absorbent underwear or not. But no, now is not the time to worry about that because apparently Steve has been able to smell him for months and still hasn’t acted on knowing that Bucky’s attracted to him.

Fuck.

He shouldn’t be here.

But… But Steve smells _nice_.

“I thought you knew.”

“No, I didn’t-” Steve deposits him on the sofa and Bucky wriggles into it. It’s soft… It’s. Oh, it’s a bottle-green velvet. “We’ll talk about it later because that’s… Disconcerting and I can’t focus. Mmm, this couch feels nice.”

Steve sounds tense when he speaks. “Yeah, Buck. You’re going into Heat.”

Bucky looks up at Steve, sees that he’s flushed and staring down at him with that intensity that Bucky can’t help but revel in. He drags his thoughts back to Steve’s words before he can do anything embarrassing, thoughts feeling as if they’re being dragged and coated in some kind of syrup. “But I have an IUD that should still be working… I had a doctor’s appointment just before Christmas to get it replaced- Oh.”

Fuck. He needs to get out of here _immediately_. He wriggles to a sitting position, eyes flitting to the door of the living room. He needs to get out, get… A cab? He can’t get the subway. He’s not sure he could walk home from here without getting into a fight or worse with another Alpha.

“Oh, what?”

Bucky winces at the realisation that this monumental fuck up is all his fault. “I cancelled the appointment to look after you-”

“Buck.”

He whimpers. “Fuck, fuck fuck _fuck!_ ” he swears, struggling to a standing position. Steve’s instantly there to steady him and Bucky has to stop himself swaying forward into his solid body. “I hate Heats.”

Steve sounds surprised. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he replies, looking up at Steve. “When I’m alone they feel like they’re never going to end and they’re just painful. And then with Brock-”

He shivers and Steve doesn’t miss it, that sharp ocean smell of anger reaching Bucky’s nose and making a part of his hind brain positively _gleeful_.

Steve snaps, “That asshole.”

“Okay. Right, no mentioning Brock if it makes you smell like that because I can’t-” He shudders as a bolt of _want_ goes through him and he shoves his hands in his coat pockets so that he doesn’t touch Steve, rub his palms against the fine knit of his sweater that is doing nothing to hide his pecs. “Shit, Steve- I need to go home.”

Steve pushes at his shoulder and encourages Bucky to sit back down. He doesn’t want to but the sofa is comfortable, so soft under his fingertips. “Bucky, you’re in no state to go anywhere.”

“I’m going to be a whole lot worse in twelve hours, Stevie.” He gets his phone out his pocket and flips up an app, groans when he sees the scrolling banner reminding him of the rules. “It’s too late for me to even call a fucking Heat Club. You need a week’s notice.”

Steve sounds confused and Bucky realises that he’s probably never heard of one. Alphas don’t go into rut unless they’re triggered by a compatible Omega that they’ve spent a significant amount of time with; Steve’s probably never had one outside of dating Sharon. “A Heat Club?”

“They match up Alphas with Omegas,” he explains, showing Steve the app and the profiles that are available to him based on all the questions he filled in when he signed up. He’s not used it for years, not since having his IUD fitted, but he thought it was better to keep the app on his phone rather than have to go through the rigmarole of filling them in again. Not that it fucking matters now. “It’s a bit like a matchmaker service for Heats. For people who have no intention of mating.”

Steve’s scent has subtly shifted again, ocean spray mixing with that earthiness that makes Bucky turn into a human noodle. “You’d spend your Heat with a stranger?” he asks, voice tight.

“Well, what’s the alternative?” he throws out, defensive of the fact that he’s not been _careful_ with his safety in the past. He’s sure that that’s what Steve objects to. “You?”

The moment he’s said it, he regrets it. His head jerks up and he looks at Steve, afraid of what the answer is going to be. He knows it will be a no.

It will be a no, right?

“That’s…” Steve holds his gaze, that ocean blue gaze of his more heated than he’s ever seen it. “Buck.”

“I know. You don’t want- We’re just friends and I'm- Ah.” He bites his lip as another shudder of want rolls through him, trying to hold the moan in. “I just… I really hate Heats, Steve.”

Steve soothes him with a shush, gathers him into his arms. Bucky knows he should move away, should get up and leave the house, but he’s selfish enough to not want to. And Steve smells _so_ good. “Are they that painful?”

He laughs weakly, trying to work out how to explain it to an Alpha. Brock certainly hadn’t understood when he tried to explain how it felt to him. “Imagine that your skin is two sizes too small and you’re on _fire_ ,” He tilts his head up so that he can look up at Steve. “You know how you’ve got that compulsion to fuck and fill and own in a rut? I have… The opposite. I want to be held down, _claimed_. Fuck, I want to be owned. No toy helps with that. All it does is make me realise that I don’t have that.”

Steve breathes out, shakily murmuring, “Shit.”

His eyes are blazing blue and his colour is high. It’s enough of a sign for Bucky to be brave.

“Steve… Could… It wouldn’t have to mean anything, I promise.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “You… You want me?”

“Fuck, yes,” Bucky says emphatically, brain catching up a good second later and making him blush hotly. “Fuck… Sorry, I’m just…”

He ducks his head, hair falling forward and covering half of his face.

“Pre-Heat. I get it,” Steve supplies, pushing a lock of Bucky’s hair back behind his ear..

Bucky looks up hopefully, encouraged by the fact that Steve hasn’t pushed him away. If anything, Bucky is almost in his lap. And in his lap is… Well, Bucky’s _felt_ that cock against his ass before and he wants to again. He wants everything Steve will give him, even if it's only for a single Heat. “You could say that. But… Would you?” 

Steve hesitates. Bucky can see it in the way that he sets his jaw. “Buck, it’s going to make things complicated.” 

Bucky shakes his head, lets himself stroke his hands up Steve’s chest and rest on top of that solid muscle. Steve isn’t pushing him away, if anything he’s gripping his waist harder. “It won’t. It- I promise, I won't let it… Please.” 

Steve tilts his chin up and holds it, looking at him seriously “You’re sure?” 

“Yes. Yes… I want it to be you,” Bucky admits, hoping that he’s not about to be shot down. His heart can’t take it. Bucky’s feelings are a fragile web of a thing, too new and too confusing, for him to be denied at this stage. 

“Then yes.” Steve leans in and brushes his lips over Bucky’s, a kiss as light as gossamer. "I’ve told you before that you can have whatever you want. Now, Buck- _sweetheart_ , tell me what you need me to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *warning alarm* It's about to get smutty up in here.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who comments and leaves kudos. It's lovely to get an email with something nice at the moment - work is tough.
> 
> Oh also, come talk to me at [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/). Anon asks on TWIFFY are totally allowed!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for the awesome beta job.
> 
> Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.
> 
> Thanks so much for all the feedback! Even when you yell at me, I love it. Now, I believe I promised smut...

Bucky feels like he can’t breathe. Had Steve really agreed? And called him sweetheart? Or has he fallen into some sort of coma from desperation and now he’s suffering from a vividly lucid dream?

It’s a fifty-fifty chance at this point.

He blinks. Realises he hasn’t answered still and that no, this _isn’t_ a fever dream. He takes a deep breath.

“Wh- What?”

Steve brushes long, strong fingers through his hair, making Bucky lean into the pressure because it feels so good. _So_ good. Bucky wants Steve’s fingers everywhere and he doesn’t try to hide the whine he lets out.

“Tell me what you need,” Steve repeats patiently, “This isn’t… I don’t have things for you to build a nest here.” He frowns slightly. “Do you want to go back home? Spend your Heat there rather than here?”

Bucky thinks of his apartment. It’s cosy and warm and _perfect_ for his nest but it’s not ideal for Heats. The sounds of his neighbours moving around in their apartments bother him and make him feel like it’s not private enough, his bed isn’t going to be nearly big enough for him and Steve, and not to mention-

“Uh, I don’t think that’s going to work,” he replies.

Steve’s hand reflexively tightens in his hair. “Is it me-”

“No, no, Steve, it’s not,” Bucky rushes to say, sliding one hand up to loop around Steve’s neck and keep him close. “Well, it is it but… Uh, I mentioned I was a bit of a hipster? My bed is a mattress on pallets because I liked the aesthetics at the time and it was way cheaper than buying an actual bed frame and you’re- You’re _strong_.”

Steve smirks as he realises what Bucky’s trying to say. “You trying to tell me that we’d break the damn bed?”

Bucky blushes, feels the tops of his ears burn red.

“Maybe,” he replies, looking around the room. Steve’s furnished it nicely, beautifully even with period pieces, but it’s not _home_. And Bucky can’t smell himself here at all which is only going to make him more determined to scent-mark the entire brownstone. And he can’t do that. Not if this is a one time thing- Which he’s not going to think about right now. “But um- yeah, shit.” He bites at his lower lip. “There’s blankets and pillows I’d like…”

Steve’s hand leaves his hair. “I’ll go get them-”

“No!” Bucky’s hand clamps down on the back of Steve’s neck, clutching at him tighter. He wants Steve close, wants Steve protecting him. He knows it’s just instinct, his own hormones going crazy, but he can’t have Steve leave him alone here. Not now he’s said he’ll help him through this Heat. “Um, no. I don’t think…” He shakes his head. “No, I don’t want you to be far away from me.”

Steve shushes him, wraps both arms around him and pulls him further into his lap like he weighs nothing. Bucky rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, nose tucked into the crook of his neck. He’s slick in his underwear and he can’t help rocking against Steve’s thigh for friction. 

“Okay, Buck, calm down,” Steve murmurs, fingers pinching at the scruff of his neck and making Bucky feel spineless even at the bare hint of authority. “I’ll stay here. Can you give me a list of what you want? What you need?”

Bucky nods and tries to pull his thoughts together. He distantly thinks that this is going to be the best Heat ever because Steve _cares_. He genuinely cares about Bucky’s well-being. 

Bucky’s not sure he’s ever had such attention before and it’s a heady thought.

  


* * *

  


Bucky lets Steve go eventually so that he can arrange for Bucky to have what he needs. He still pouts at having to do so until Steve brings back a blanket from his bed, one which smells of him. Bucky is shameless, wrapping himself up in it and turning his head to breathe the scent in. It’s saturated - in the best way - and Bucky shivers when he realises that by the end of this, he’s going to smell like Steve too. And Steve’s going to smell like him. Steve’s going to be _his Alpha_ \- if only for a little while.

It’s a comforting thought and he holds onto it as he dozes, dreams of Steve.

Time seems to stretch like taffy and he’s not sure how much of it has passed when he awakens. There’s a large number of boxes and packages in the living room and Steve is carefully opening them.

He hums happily at the domestic scene, snuggling further down in his blanket and watching Steve. “What’s all this?”

“Becca’s dropping off your things in fifteen minutes. These are new things…” Steve pulls out a throw and passes it towards Bucky so that he can feel it, approve of it. As if Bucky would complain about any of this even though he knows he should, that Steve shouldn’t be spending money on him. “In hindsight, I _might_ have gone slightly overboard.”

It feels like _clouds_. Bucky has no idea what the fabric is but he rubs his cheek against it like a cat. “This is _so_ soft. Jesus, I just want to roll around on it.”

Steve’s looking at him with some amusement but there’s an intentness there that-

Wait.

Is that look _want_? Has Steve been looking at him like he wants him this entire time and Bucky hasn’t realised it? 

But then why did he say what he said to Nat?

_Fuck._

Bucky doesn’t know which way is up at this point and it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s going to spend his Heat with Steve, he’s going to get everything he’s ever wanted.

“That’s the idea.”

Heat floods his system and he scrambles to unwrap himself. He can feel slick around his ass and thighs and he wants… He wants… 

“... I’m. Shit, Steve, can I kiss you?” he blurts out. “I mean, I know we’ve mostly done it when other people are around but I want-”

Steve’s suddenly there, leaning over him on the couch and crowding him. Lips are on his, a large hand cradling Bucky’s face, and Bucky… Bucky’s brain goes offline. He kisses back but there’s no mistake. Steve’s in charge here and that… That makes him want more.

“Buck…” he breathes as he breaks away, voice ragged, “You’re in control here. I’m- Why are you giving me that look?”

“I… I want… Fuck, why is this so hard to say,” he whispers into the charged air, “I want you to look after me. I want _you_ to be in control.”

Steve growls.

The sound goes straight through Bucky, hits the essence of who he is. What he is. It’s a primal sound, one that he can’t help but react to on a base level. He moans, tilts his head back to expose his neck. His dick hardens so quickly that his head spins. He knows Steve smells the sudden slick, can tell by the way that his eyes darken almost imperceptibly. 

Steve’s voice is husky, gravel, when he murmurs, “I’m always gonna look after you.”

Bucky gasps. “I know but… I can get pretty needy-”

“You’re perfect,” Steve insists, punctuating his words with one of those light kisses of his. Bucky wants more. “But if you want that then… Okay. I’m in charge of this and you just let me know if it’s something you don’t want. You tell me to stop and I stop.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he stares up at him.

Did he just hear correctly?

“...You, you’re okay with this?” he asks shakily, unable to believe his luck.

Steve growls again, moves up from kneeling on the floor so that he’s straddling Bucky’s lap. Bucky can feel his weight, so solid, and he can’t help but roll his hips up, gasp audibly when he can feel Steve’s erection against his.

“Are you kidding me right now? Buck, you have to know that your scent is driving me wild right now,” he confesses, taking a deep breath and exhaling shakily, “I… There’s so many things I want to do to you.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks hopefully.

Steve smiles at him. “Yeah. Now why don’t we go and take a bath. I can run it and join you once Becca’s dropped your things off.”

“You want us to bathe together?” he asks, thinking back to when Steve had said that his tub here was big enough to soak in. Is it big enough for the two of them? Can he wash Steve? Feel all of those muscles? See his cock properly before he takes it?

Before Steve knots him.

He clenches at the thought of it, unable to look away from Steve’s gaze.

“That’s what I was thinking. You’ve had a stressful day and I want to make you feel better.” Steve gets to his feet, pulls Bucky up with him and holds him, an arm wrapped around his waist securely. “You said it yourself, Heats can be rough.”

“Yeah, they’re… I could wash. But I want… I need scent,” he confides, not sure why it’s still so hard to admit that he needs or wants anything. He thinks back to Heats with Brock, with being unsure of himself every single time. “Your scent.”

God, he hates what that time with Brock has done to him. How it’s made him so reluctant to embrace his Omega needs and to verbalise them. 

Steve kisses along his jaw, presses a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re going to have my scent, sweetheart.” Bucky ducks his head at the endearment, unable to hide the grin. “What’s got you blushing like that?”

Steve’s fingers tip his chin up and Bucky’s lips part, expectant. “I… Like it. When you call me that?”

Steve smiles. “You do, huh?”

“Mmhmm,” he admits, grins giddily, “Makes me feel special.”

Bucky doesn’t think he imagines the look in Steve’s eyes. It looks a lot like… Like something he doesn’t want to say out loud in case he’s wrong. He can hardly bear it.

“You _are_ special, Buck,” Steve murmurs. “Now why don’t we go and take that bath.”

  


* * *

  


The bath turns out to be everything Bucky needed to feel confident. He hadn’t realised how much he needed to see Steve naked until he has. Steve is big - _big_ \- all over and he doesn’t seem to mind at all when Bucky touches him. And Bucky does touch him, sweeps his hands over those pecs, over those abs. Shyly glances at Steve before rubbing up against him to cover himself in Steve’s scent, making sure that Steve’s wearing his scent too.

He should feel shame but there’s no judgement coming from Steve. If anything, there’s a sense of anticipation. 

Bucky feels, _knows_ in his bones, that he’s chosen rightly. It was a gut instinct to ask Steve - and fuck, he might have to thank Tony Stark for sending him here - but it’s decision he’ll never, ever regret, even if his feelings are muddled up like some sort of scribble on a page.

There’s a delicious sort of tension winding up between the two of them whilst they soak and touch and Bucky whines when he drops a hand down behind him, circles Steve’s cock where it’s semi-hard with his fingers. He can only just get his hand around it and it makes his mouth water in anticipation.

“You wanna…”

Steve drops a kiss onto his neck, feather-light. “Tomorrow, Buck,” he promises, arms tightening around Bucky’s middle. His hand spreads, thumb lightly scrapes over Bucky’s nipple. You just relax right now.”

Bucky sighs happily. “I could…”

“I don’t want you sore before tomorrow, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs into his ear. “You’re going to be exhausted by the end of it.”

It makes him comfortable. Steve wants to look after him. Steve wants him to feel good. 

And when he falls asleep that night with Steve spooned against his back, he shivers at the idea of tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he’s going to be all Steve’s.

  


* * *

  


When he wakes up the next morning, a line of heat against his back, he doesn’t hesitate to roll his hips back into it, gasping at the sensations it elicits. His Heat is fully upon him now and everything feels more sensitive. Steve’s luxurious sheets brush against his nipples, his dick, and he shivers. 

“Ah- Fuck. Ah!” he whisper-moans, making a contented sort of noise when Steve pulls him closer and sleepily kisses at his scent gland. “Mm, Steve, did I wake you?”

Steve smiles against his skin. Bucky wants to brand the imprint of his lips against his skin, wear the mark of his mouth forever more. “Shh there, Buck,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down his side soothingly. “I woke up a while back, was just dozing.”

Bucky sleepily wiggles backwards against Steve’s body, feeling how slick he is as he does. He knows it has to be on Steve’s thighs and cock by now. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this wet before. “You did?”

Steve nods, nips at Bucky’s earlobe. “You smell real good,” he murmurs, voice barely more than a low rumble that _does things_ to Bucky’s self control, “Can’t wait to taste you.”

Bucky’s brain short-circuits.

He whimpers, pressing his head into the pillow and taking a few short, sharp breaths, trying to get his reaction under control.

Steve rolls him onto his front, blankets him with his body and kisses across his shoulders. A kiss to the nape of his neck has Bucky melting into the sheets and he can’t bring himself to feel embarrassed at how turned on he is. He humps his hips upwards, gasping harshly as his dick slides across the fabric. He’s _aching_.

He can smell Steve, smell that muskiness that is so uniquely him. Bucky’s been covered in his scent since the night before, spent hours losing his inhibitions as he rubbed against his glands, but he wants more. He wants to be covered in it. He wants to smell owned.

“You want that?” Steve asks, kissing down his spine slowly. Each kiss feels like a promise of what’s to come. “Want me to make you feel good, sweetheart?”

“Steve… I… Yeah,” he chokes out, turns his head to look at him over his shoulder. He’s not sure why but he never expected Steve to be a dirty talker. Not that he’s complaining. Not in a million- No, a billion years. Steve can spew filth into his ear all day long, and he’ll take it and ask for more. “Y- You want to do that?”

Steve frowns and pauses, hands flexing on Bucky’s hips. “Did nobody ever make you feel good that way?” When Bucky shakes his head, he growls. “‘s a shame but I’m going to show you how good it can be.”

Bucky’s mind reels. He’s seen it in porn, he’s even heard about it through the grapevine, but Heats… Omegas… Especially male Omegas who are already seen as an oddity... _Their_ pleasure isn’t as important.

But… Steve wants this. He wants _Bucky_. He wants to make him feel _good_.

It’s more than Bucky’s brain can comprehend and so he lifts his hips up and pushes his ass against Steve’s cock. He’s hard, a solid thickness, and the length- Bucky’s not going to worry about how the hell he takes that right now.

Steve will make him take it.

“Please,” he pleads, shivering when Steve moves down the bed, pushes Bucky’s thighs apart and leaves him exposed. Bucky’s pretty sure he’s dribbling slick at this point and he turns his face back into the pillow, not sure how he’s this turned on and embarrassed at the same time.

“You don’t need to beg, Buck. I’ll give you what you need.”

Even though he’s expecting it, he still jumps at the feel of Steve’s lips on his skin, the flat of his tongue brushing against his rim. Bucky chokes off a cry, holds tight onto the pillows underneath him when Steve gives an approving purr that resonates through his entire being. 

“Sweet as honey, that’s what I thought.”

And then he gets to work and it’s… It’s bliss. Bucky feels as if his brain has taken a vacation because he’s nothing more than a mass of sensation. His world has narrowed down to nothing more than the feel of Steve’s tongue, the licks, the nips, the _kisses_ to his slick hole. 

The way that Steve spreads him wide. The feel of Steve’s beard against the sensitive skin of his ass. 

Steve’s beard is going to be covered in Bucky’s slick. He’s going to be covered in _Bucky_.

“Ah- Fuck. _Fuck_ ,” he whimpers at that particular thought, hips convulsing. He’s so close to coming already and it’s barely been a few minutes but he doesn’t care, wants to come and come and _come_ for Steve and show him how much he wants this. Show him how primal this all feels. “How… God.”

“‘S good?” Steve reaches up to cup the scruff of Bucky’s neck, pinching slightly, and chuckling when Buck whines in response.

“Yeah, so- so. God, Steve… _Alpha_ ” he murmurs, turns his head to watch and nearly coming on the spot because oh, _oh_. Steve is eating at his sensitive hole, flicking and kissing and Bucky can feel it. Can put the visual with the feelings and it’s too much for him to handle. He gasps sharply, drowning when Steve’s eyes snap up to his, something charged there. “Y’like that? Me calling you Alpha?”

Steve growls, bites playfully at Bucky’s cheek before sitting up. His cock slides through the mess of spit and slick, catching on Bucky’s rim, and Bucky _moans_. “This answer your question?”

He doesn’t hesitate, just blurts, “Fuck… I want… Steve, I want you. I want you to fuck me, knot me-”

Steve growls, leans down to catch Bucky’s lips in a kiss. He _dominates_ it, licking into his mouth, and the sweet, tender kisses from pre-Heat are gone. Steve is rough when he’s this turned on and it stirs something in Bucky’s soul.

“Need to open you up first, baby,” he rasps when he pulls back, leaving Bucky short of breath. He rocks his hips forward, Bucky able to feel the length of him against his delicate rim again. “Yeah, that’s right, gotta open you up. You’re tight and so fucking sweet with it, but I’m big…” He presses a finger against Bucky’s hole, taps at it playfully. “Much bigger than this tiny little thing.”

Bucky feels his toes curl at the words, a thrill going through him at the almost-condescension. “Nnngh. Shit. I can take it,” he pleads.

Steve leans forward to kiss at his neck, cooing, “I know you can. You just want to be a good Omega, huh?”

Bucky can’t nod quickly enough because he’s right but he’s wrong. He’s so wrong because Bucky doesn’t want to just be a good Omega. “Wanna be a good Omega for _you_. Wanna be so good for you.”

“I know. You’re so good, Buck.” Steve pushes his finger in, an easy glide with how wet Bucky is. He’s a mess down there, slick leaking from him and wetting the sheets below. Steve pumps it a couple of times, keeping eye contact with Bucky. “That feel good?”

Bucky can’t help but nod and spread his legs wider. “Yeah, that- Two?” he asks hopefully, sighs happily when a second thick finger pushes into him. It feels good, it feels _great_ , but he wants more. 

He’s riding Steve’s fingers shamelessly, chasing that sweet feeling, revelling in the fact that Steve’s eyes are on him, flicking between his face and his ass, watching as he drives his fingers into him again and again. It drives away the itch of his skin, the unrelenting _want_ that Heat brings out in him. 

And then.

And then Steve crooks his fingers.

“ _Ah_!” he screams, arching his back, unsure as to whether he wants to push back or stay right where he is. Steve’s fingers are rubbing across his sweet spot relentlessly and Bucky doesn’t know which way is up. He feels pressure building. Pressure that’s going to lead to him coming in a mortifyingly short amount of time if he doesn’t beg Steve to stop. “FuckfuckStevefuck!”

“Gonna come for me, sweetheart?” Steve growls, voice sounding nothing more than certain as he crowds Bucky, change in angle making everything seem more intense to Bucky. “Get yourself all over these sheets? Soak my hand?”

Bucky’s helpless to do anything but take it. Doesn’t _want_ to do anything more than take whatever Steve wants to give him. “Fuck. Steve…” he pants, “Fuck, _Alpha_ , I’m so close.”

Steve doesn’t let up. If anything he redoubles his efforts and Bucky’s blood is singing, his head is spinning. He feels dizzy with want, with need, with the need to be a good Omega for his Alpha. “Give it to me,” he demands. “Let me have this.”

Bucky’s mind whites out slightly, nothing more than static, as he comes, dick untouched, rubbing his orgasm messily into the sheets. 

He sinks back into his body slowly, conscious first of Steve’s voice against his ear - _“good boy”_ \- then the way that Steve’s still fingering him, three fingers moving in and out of him, the wetness of it all audible to Bucky’s ears. Had he- He shuffles… Oh, fuck.

“Did I-”

“Squirted all over me, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, nips at his earlobe. “Christ, you’re gorgeous. You have any idea how gorgeous you look right now?”

Bucky can’t help but preen at the compliment. He knows Steve can smell it, that sugared scent he emanates when he’s happy and he stretches languorously, gives him a flirty look from underneath his eyelashes. He feels suddenly bold, elated at how he’s been _good_ for Steve.

“Do I?” he asks demurely.

“Fishing for compliments?” Steve asks, fingers skirting around his prostate rather than rubbing over it. Bucky squirms helplessly, knowing that Steve has him right where he wants him. 

At his mercy. 

“No- Ahh!” he hisses as a wave of Heat washes over him. It feels like getting into a too-hot bath, that jolt of shock and he whimpers as the _need_ floods back into him. The need that is only going to be sated once he’s locked onto Steve’s knot, come pumping into his body.

Steve leans down to kiss the back of his neck. “Heat making you antsy?”

“Yeah,” he grits out, mewling in relief when Steve’s fingers return to his sweet spot. “‘S hot. Achy.”

Steve’s voice is low in his ear, beard brushing against his delicate skin, his skin pricking up into goosebumps. “Tell me where you’re achy, Buck.”

Bucky lets out an undignified whimper. Steve’s assertiveness has always, _always_ , done it for him. Since the very start when he’d taken over in the elevator and helped him out of a jam. But this, this… _ownership_ of Bucky’s body and the dirty talk? 

He’s not sure where he goes from here. How he moves on from here. 

If he can.

He’s never been so turned on his life, so desperate to please an Alpha. Bucky’s head is spinning and he’s pretty sure that if Steve asked right now, he’d tilt his neck and let him bury those teeth in his neck, sealing his fate for good.

Steve growls at the lack of response, the thickness of Bucky’s scent. “Tell me, sweetheart.”

“You know-” Bucky pleads. “My…”

“Tell me what you call it?” Steve coos, laving over Bucky’s scent gland with his tongue. The casual intimacy makes Bucky burn..

“My…” he hesitates. “I… Sometimes, I call it my cunt, Alpha.”

Steve purrs approvingly, Bucky able to feel it against his back. “You want me in there? Want my knot, Omega?” At Bucky’s nod and whine, he shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, use your words, Buck.”

“Yes, yes, _please_ yes. Three fingers has to be enough-” he whines.

“Four. Want to slide right in there like you’re made for me.” Bucky chokes out a moan at that image, wants to say that he _is_ made for Steve. Nothing has ever felt as right as this, nothing ever will. “Don’t wanna hurt you, not when we’re going to be here for a while.”

Bucky shakes his head, groans. “You won’t, I promise- You-”

His voice chokes to a whine as Steve adds a fourth finger, feeling _full_. It’s still an easy glide with how slick he is but he pushes back, tries to get Steve’s fingers deeper. Tries to get more inside him. 

He’s desperate for everything Steve will give him.

“Shh,” Steve’s hand smooths down his side, trying to calm him down. “I know you’d say just about anything to get me in you right now. Let me make this good for you.”

Steve’s thumb presses against his rim and Bucky pants into the pillow. He knows Steve won’t press that in, knows that this is not about that- it’s about biological need, but it still turns him on more than he can articulate, the idea that he _could_. His thighs quake with tension and he grinds against the sheets, needing some sort of relief.

It’s almost a surprise when he feels himself starting to harden, body straining to go again. It’s too soon, far too soon, but Bucky’s not sure anything’s going to surprise him today. “I- Nngh. Is-” He humps the fabric helplessly. “Oh Jesus, I’m getting hard again.”

“Yeah, you like that?” Steve pulls at his hips with his free hand, helps Bucky gather himself up so he’s on his knees and presenting, thighs spread wide and dick hopelessly humping the air. “You feel so goddamn good around my fingers, Buck. Slicker and sweeter than anybody I’ve ever been with.”

“Steve, I- Please. Please, I’m ready,” he begs, almost sobs when Steve finally pulls his fingers free and feels the squelch as he coats his cock with Bucky’s slick. Bucky has a sudden need to see it, to see Steve and he turns, ends up in a tangle of arms and legs with his clumsiness, coordination shot with his brain offline. “Wait- Can- I wanna be face to face.”

“Think I’m going to complain about seeing that face of yours?” Steve smirks down at him, helps move him so his thighs are either side of Steve’s surprisingly slim hips. From here Bucky can drink him in properly, can see his broad chest dusted with dark blond hair, the way those shoulders taper down to his waist. How thick and powerful his thighs are, framed by Bucky’s - so much slimmer and smoother. His cock, large and thick, makes Bucky’s mouth water at how much he wants to get his mouth on it. He wonders if Steve will let him at some point, whether Steve will bunch one of those huge hands in his hair and fuck up into his mouth. Use him for his own pleasure.

He realises headily that Steve’s beard is darker than usual and that’s… Fuck, that’s because it’s covered in Bucky’s slick. 

He barely holds back a moan at that realisation. “I- I’d hope not,” he replies instead, pulls Steve closer in using his heel against Steve’s ass. He reaches up to kiss him, tastes himself on Steve’s lips. “I’m ready. Please Steve.”

This time Steve doesn’t deny him. Instead he covers, _surrounds_ Bucky, reaching with one hand to position himself and push in. It’s a wet, hard slide as he opens up around Steve and he gasps at how _full_ he feels, lets loose more slick that he knows Steve can feel, judging by his heated groan.

“Y’okay?” Steve asks, strokes Bucky’s hair back off his face.

“Yeah, I’m-” He hiccups a laugh, clenches around the solid heat inside him. “You’re _big_ is all.”

Steve ducks his head, laughs against Bucky’s neck and presses sweet kisses there. “You feel so good, Buck.” He looks up. “You need a minute?”

Bucky shakes his head, tightens his legs further around Steve’s waist to encourage him to move. “How are you being so in control?” he gasps out, voice shakier than he’d like. “I feel like… Like the only thing tethering me to this Earth is you.”

Steve catches his lips in a kiss and he shifts so he can rest on his forearms, hips rolling as he drives in and out of Bucky. It’s perfect, _perfect_ , and it has Bucky tilting his head back, eyes slipping shut and mouth part-open, unable to stop the litany of moans from escaping his lips. He feels like he’s soaring, like he’s-

“Christ, you’re perfect. You think I’m in control but I just wanna make this good for you,” Steve growls, litters his neck and face with soft kisses. His thrusts started off slow but now he’s hit his stride and Bucky can’t do much more than hold on, feeling that lick of fire in his belly every time that Steve hits his spot just right, a slow wind of tension.

“Oh- Fuck, oh…” Steve’s hand wraps around his dick and Bucky shudders in pleasure, mind whiting out. “God, yeah- Yeah, just, fuck-”

“You close?” Steve pants, thumb swiping over the head. Bucky feels his cock drool, Steve’s dirty, low chuckle ruins him. “Yeah, you are. God, you’re so tight, sweetheart.”

All of it winds Bucky up more like a too-tight spring, spine locking up with the need to come. Steve grabs at him, tilts his hips up more, and suddenly each one of his thrusts hits that bundle of nerves deep within Bucky and it has him crying out again.

“Steve, Steve, I’m gonna-” he warns, trembling, caught between fucking up into Steve’s hand or fucking back onto Steve’s cock. It’s so _good_ that he can’t think- “Fuck, I can’t… _Steve_.”

His first orgasm was a surprise, born out of a sheer reaction to how well Steve can play his body, understand how to give him pleasure. This hits differently, leaves him shattered, reliant on the caging security of Steve’s body over his to feel like he won’t spin out into a million pieces. He’s not sure whether he’s covered himself or Steve in come, realises it doesn’t matter when Steve leans down to kiss him and their chests slide against each other. 

“That’s it- Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts, voice rough in Bucky’s ear. “Can feel you milking my cock-”

Bucky feels the catch of Steve’s knot at his entrance, and that has him shaking again, that biological need driving him to _get it inside him_. He needs it more than oxygen at this rate.

“Knot me,” Bucky murmurs, eyes open and looking up at Steve. “Do it, Alpha.”

Steve looks at him, helplessly, and it’s two, three, four strokes before he presses forward with a primal growl, and Bucky’s own eyes widen as he takes Steve’s knot, body clenching down on it. Bucky can _feel_ Steve coming inside, a hot pulsing that makes him want to purr in satisfaction; he’s pleased his Alpha.

When Steve gives a weak, wet chuckle, dropping his head down to rest on Bucky’s shoulder, Bucky realises that he actually has purred. He shifts tentatively, moans at how _tied_ he feels.

“Mmm,” he says happily, trying to catch his breath still. “That… Steve, I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t that.”

Steve tilts his head to look up at him. His eyes, to Bucky, look hopeful. “You’re happy?”

“Yeah, I…” He bites his lip. “I realise I didn’t leave you much of a choice-”

Steve frowns and takes Bucky’s lips in a kiss, makes him giggle by kissing across his chin and cheeks. “Don’t say stupid things, Buck. I had a choice.”

Bucky hums in agreement, decides that it’s not worth the argument. His head is still floaty and soft, focused on nothing more than the closeness of Steve, the knot in his ass, the liquid he can _feel_. It’s everything. “I could go back to sleep. How long…”

Steve yawns, answers, “An hour-ish.”

Bucky’s eyes snap open. “ _Fuck_.” 

It’s not that he’s not comfortable. He is, with the softness of Steve’s bed underneath him and Steve on top of him making him feel safe and secure. But Bucky wants to shower, he wants to eat, he wants to sleep and, ultimately, Steve is a heavy bastard.

“Sorry.”

Steve looks anything but sorry. No. Steve looks _smug_.

Bucky looks at him suspiciously. “Is that a super soldier thing?”

“Think it’s more of a me thing,” Steve admits with a grin, presses a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips. “I’ll go get breakfast started when I can.”

Bucky sighs, trying not to melt into a puddle of goo. He speaks before he can think to filter his words, caught off-guard by how happy he feels, “Do you ever stop being perfect?”

“You think so?” Steve asks, sounding surprised. His blue eyes bore into Bucky’s and Bucky hates that he can see hesitancy there. Doubt.

He wants to have this conversation, he wants to ask if what he heard back at the lodge was right - it can’t be right, not when this feels so good and so… Authentic - but the time to ask isn’t when he’s stuck around Steve’s knot. If he doesn’t hear what he wants, it’s going to be awkward. Torturously awkward.

“I know so,” he replied firmly, raising his head just enough to kiss Steve reassuringly. “Now let me sleep, Alpha.”

Steve moves themslightly so he’s not crushing Bucky’s chest and he chuckles at the over-dramatic breath Bucky takes once he’s freed. He brushes his hand over Bucky’s hair and drops a kiss to his temple. “Sweet dreams, Buck.”

Bucky falls asleep feeling safe.

  


* * *

  


Two days later, despite everything, Bucky is _sore_. It’s late at night- Or early, depending on how you look at it. There were fireworks a couple of hours ago and it had taken them a few seconds to realise that it was New Year celebrations, that they’d fucked their way through it and had been no-shows at Tony’s party. They had laughed, whispered ‘Happy New Year’, and come together once more. All the urgency of the first couple of days is gone, replaced with an intense intimacy that makes Bucky’s heart hurt. 

It’s not the only thing that hurts. His ass hurts, his lips are chapped, and Steve has pressed bruises into his hips even though he tried to be gentle. Bucky hasn’t left the bed much, save to eat and use the bathroom, but he’s seen the purple and red marks on his neck and chest, all evidence of Steve’s desire for him.

He wouldn’t change a thing.

He feels different now, his Heat more of a muted itch than a fire burning through him. He’s pretty sure that it’ll pass by tomorrow and then… Then things have to go back to normal. 

Except they can’t.

He’s had Steve inside him, growling his name, using Bucky’s willing and pliant body as a home for his cock. Bucky had loved Steve before, had loved him before ever knowing him this intimately, but now… Now he can’t think of anything but how much he wants to hold onto Steve. Even slipping helplessly towards sleep, he can’t help but snuggle up closer to him, rub his cheek against his armpit just to be covered in his scent.

“Buck?”

“Mm,” he says sleepily, cracking an eye open, “What?”

Steve noses his hair, arm coming up to wrap tightly around his back when Bucky hooks a leg over Steve’s. “You smell different.”

“So do you…” he breathes sleepily, too tired to think what that means. “Think my Heat is breaking. God, that was… Longer than it’s ever been. More intense too… Must be because I haven’t had one in a while.”

“Oh…” Steve sounds oddly muted. Disappointed? Bucky doesn’t know but he knows he’s too tired to ask and find out why he feels that way. “So tomorrow?”

“Back to normal, I guess,” he answers, “Except Steve… We need to talk.”

He doesn’t miss Steve’s sudden flinch and he frowns, tries to work out _why_ Steve would feel that way. He can’t… He can’t possibly still feel the way he did at Christmas? This, the trust that they’ve shown in each other, the way that they _fit_.

No.

But…

What if he does?

He decides to push the uncertainty away, softly kisses Steve’s chest and nuzzles into it, listens to the lulling heartbeat under his ear. He smiles when he feels the slump of released tension a couple of seconds later, Steve’s arms tightened around him..

It’s all going to be okay.

“I know,” Steve says quietly. “Tomorrow… Well, later this morning, okay, sweetheart? We’ll talk about what this means then.”

“Y’promise?” he slurs, feeling as if he’s underwater and trying to get to the surface. He’s drifting, sinking, overwhelmed with calm, with bone-deep tiredness.

He doesn’t hear Steve’s response if there is one. He’s asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly impressed I got to Chapter 13 without being overly screamed at smut. I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Comments and kudos are forever appreciated. Also as I know I have a few angst hater readers - I'd advise you read 14 & 15 back to back. I promise there's no cliff-hanger on 14 but this is me being nice, not wanting to spoil anything, and giving you a warning. And remember that I promised a happy ending and it *is* fluffy. <3
> 
> Please come talk to me at [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/). Anon asks on TWIFFY are totally allowed!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for the awesome beta job.
> 
> Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.
> 
> Thanks so much for all the feedback! I love hearing what you think is coming next. I don't know whether you're going to love or hate this so read on...

“Nngh, g’mornin’” Bucky says around a mouthful of pillow. There’s no response, no lazy chuckle or arm grabbing him close, and he has a sudden, sinking feeling that something is wrong. For the past three nights, he’s been an extension of Steve, has slept curled up around him, sprawled over him, or blanketed by him. But… He sticks a hand out and confirms what he already knows.

The bed is cold.

There’s no radio or jazz music playing from the kitchen downstairs.

He can’t smell Steve, not beyond the scent that lingers on his skin, in the air.

Steve isn’t here.

Anguish sweeps through him at the thought. He shivers unpleasantly, pulls the sheets up over his head, and tries to pretend that this isn’t happening.

He knows what it is. 

Omega Drop.

Although it’s traditional for Alphas to make their interest in Omegas known - and in the past, their interest was all that mattered - Omegas now have the right to choose their partners. It’s well-known that it shouldn’t all be based solely on physical attraction because that… Well, that was how Bucky ended up dating Brock and it was something he vowed never to do again. Omegas choose Alphas because of their ability to provide, to care, to keep their Omegas _safe_ emotionally and physically. Not _just_ in their Heat but whenever Omegas feel particularly needy - such as now. Omegas can experience something close to sub drop, an emotional or physical low after experiencing extraordinary levels of endorphins during their Heat. 

It doesn’t happen all of the time but post-Heat, Bucky knows he’s susceptible to falling into a funk if he’s not petted, cosseted, told how valued and special he is. He feels shaky, vulnerable, and he doesn’t want to lower the sheets and have his eyes tell him what his senses already know.

Steve isn’t here.

But… But maybe he went out to get breakfast?

“Jarvis?” he asks warily, not sure if this will work in Steve’s home but not knowing what else to try.

“Yes, sir?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and pushes the sheets down, looking around the bedroom. It’s a state after the past few days, with blankets and pillows all over the place. Bucky made multiple nests, had the thrill of inviting Steve into them. Now they look like nothing more than messy remnants of better times.

He shakes his head and swallows past the lump in his throat, “Is… Did Steve go out?”

“Captain Rogers left the premises at 7:57am. I am not authorised to give his location at present, nor can I give an estimate on when he is likely to return.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, frowning, “Did, um, did he leave anything for me?”

“Captain Rogers left a note on the nightstand for you,” Bucky’s head swivels and he sees the note, Steve’s tidy penmanship writing ‘Bucky’ in cursive. He goes to grab it but his hand halts in mid-air when Jarvis continues, “He also left instructions that I was to arrange a car for your departure and organise the return of your personal items.”

Leave… 

Steve wants him to leave. Take his things with him.

Bucky suddenly feels bereft. He feels the burning hotness of unshed tears and doesn’t hesitate to let them flow. He can’t help but wonder if he misunderstood, if…

_Tomorrow morning… Well, later this morning, okay, sweetheart? We’ll talk about what this means then._

Bucky had thought that this meant they’d discuss their _future_ together, would make this right. That Steve would be his Alpha and that they could date for real. But perhaps not. Perhaps Steve had meant that they’d talk about how this meant nothing, how this was only Steve helping Bucky out because Bucky had turned up on his doorstep - courtesy of Tony Stark - half-delirious with Heat, scenting him and toying with his Alpha instincts.

Had he really misread this?

Had Steve made himself scarce so that he didn’t have to deal with this?

He reaches for his phone, heart wrenching when he sees no missed calls or messages from Steve. Instead, he dials the only person he wants to speak to- Well, the second person. He doesn’t dare dial the first. Knows he won’t answer, not if he wants Bucky gone from his house. “Becca.”

“Bucky Bear,” she sing-songs, music playing loudly in the background. “Where’ve you been?”

“Heat and you know it. Just- Whatever you’re going to say, don’t say it,” he says hurriedly, cutting off her excited screech. “Listen. I need you to use mom and dad’s car and come pick me up. You’re closer than I am.”

The music switches off instantly and Becca’s voice is alert, wary even, “Hey- You okay?”

“I’m at Steve’s…” He looks around at the bedroom and kicks his way out of the sheets, resisting the urge to huff in Steve’s scent one last time. “Not the Tower, I’m at his place in Brooklyn Heights. Fuck… I don’t know the address but I’ll share my location or ask Jarvis for it.”

“I already have the address from dropping your things off the other day, Jim Jam. Where _is_ lover boy?” Becca asks. Bucky can tell that the penny has dropped when he doesn’t answer, when her tone grows scathing. “Don’t tell me he isn’t there?”

He trips around the room, throwing his things into a pile. He knows which are his because they’re not pristine and brand new, they’re sentimental items that he’s collected over the years. That he felt comfortable with Becca bringing to Steve’s… That will smell of Steve for several weeks. 

Fuck.

“Becs. No,” he mutters. “Not now. Just get here.”

Becca sighs, “Okay… Okay, I’ll be there in… Thirty? Thirty max.”

“Thanks,” he says, pauses for a second. “I love you.”

“Love you too, big bro. Grabbing my coat and I’ll be with you soon.”

Pressing the screen to disconnect, Bucky surveys the room and his eyes land on the note. He strides across and shoves it into his coat pocket so it doesn’t sit there accusingly. He can’t open it, can’t hear Steve tell him in platitudes that he’s sorry, and that ‘it’s me, not you’. 

It’s not. It’s Bucky.

He’s not good enough for Steve and Steve’s finally wised up to it.

It’s all over.

  


* * *

  


Three nights later, Bucky is still moping. He’s moping so much so that he’s not even happy to be in his favourite tiny, hole-in-the-wall bar with its overpriced drinks, not even when Becca is the one buying the shots because she feels sorry for him. It’s a truly sorry state of affairs. 

He’s called in sick to work, used some of his allocated days to instead huddle up on the sofa and watch nothing but rom coms, because the idea of talking to Tony isn’t worth thinking about. Not when he doesn’t know _what_ to say because Steve hasn’t contacted him once. Bucky thought about calling him… A few hundred times, but he hasn’t. Not even when he’d panickedly run to CVS to buy a pregnancy test, terrified of the result.

It was negative. He isn’t sure how he feels about that right now and it’s that more than anything that has forced him out to the bar because he _knows_ he doesn’t want children yet. He’s all cried out, he’s watched most of the ‘romance’ category on Netflix, and he still feels like shit. 

So, alcohol.

“So… So that’s why Steve isn’t good enough,” Becca continues, illustrating her point with a poke to Bucky’s chest. “That’s why. Because he’s a _dick_. All Alphas are dicks.”

Bucky snorts and takes a sip of his beer. “You’re an Alpha, sis.”

“Yeah, but like, I’m not an _Alpha_ ,” she replies, pulling a face. Y’know?”

He chuckles and pulls her into a half-hug. Becca smells like she always does when she’s happy, like some sort of fruit pie. Bucky realises that he might be hungry. “Yeah,” he agrees gruffly. “You’re the best even when you’re the worst.”

“I am,” she reiterates, a cheeky grin on her face. “I am the _best_.”

And she is- but Steve’s the best too. Even though he can’t bear to think about Steve right now, he’s still the best. Bucky can’t imagine life without him and it’s only been… What, just over two months? He doesn’t want to be dramatic but it’s possibly been the best two months of Bucky’s life.

“I just… I love him,” he says, changing the conversation away from how awesome Becca is because honestly, she’ll never shut up about it and he wants to talk about Steve. He wants to smell that woodsy earthiness, wants it to overwhelm him. He thinks back to how strong it was when Bucky was between Steve’s legs sucking him off, how dizzily ecstatic he’d been. “What- uh…” He collects his thoughts. “So I thought we were on the same page. I thought that… I know what he said at Christmas, I know what he said to Natasha but… How can you fake that? I’ve never felt like that before-”

Becca scrunches her nose up. “Urgh. Too much information. Way too much.”

“Sorry…” He shakes his head as a memory pops into his head, pointing at her accusingly. “No. Not sorry. Because I know all about you and that guy - Ben? - you were seeing. I _know_ all about how you liked it when-”

Becca gasps. “Oh my god!” she exclaims. “No, you were like… So drunk when I told you that and I didn’t tell _you_ , I was telling Darcy. You were… Just in the general area of hearing. You heard by… Proxy.”

Bucky tries to keep a straight face but laughs, overcome with the giggles at her indignant look. “You don’t make any sense,” he crows.

“Yeah, well, neither do you,” she argues, tips his drink up towards his lips. “Drink more.”

He takes another long pull of his beer, tips his head back and drains the bottle. It’s something craft-y and tasty and he nods when the bartender asks if he wants another. “Anyway,” he starts, wanting to get back to what he was saying. “Just… I dated Brock-”

Becca fake gags on her drink. “Urgh. I hate Brock. We all hate Brock.” At Bucky’s disbelieving look, she holds up a finger. “I can prove it.”

She turns around on her bar stool and taps a man on the shoulder, smiles sweetly at him when he looks over at her. “Excuse me, don’t you just hate Brock?”

“Uh… Yeah?” he says, clearly confused. 

Bucky stifles a laugh. The man raises his eyebrows at him - non-verbally asking ‘what the fuck?’ - and turns back to his group of friends, clearly not interested in engaging with the crazy, even when they’re as pretty as his sister is. He can’t blame him.

“See, random stranger hates Brock!” she reasons, sounding delighted about it. “Booooo-”

“Becs!” he hisses, taking his drink from the bartender. Two shots also appear on the bar and Bucky can smell from here that they’re nothing but cheap tequila. Future Bucky is going to hate Present Bucky. And possibly Present and Future Becca. “Be serious!”

“Sorry,” She waves her hand. “Continue.”

Bucky does continue, “It wasn’t that good. It was never that good, even when we knew each other and I thought it was just sex, and y’know, that it was just over-hyped and Omegas were just faking it in porn but…” He sighs, brushes his hair back off his face. “It wasn’t.”

“Bucky…”

He drops his gaze. He’s already feeling like an emotional wreck… Well, husk of a wreck. He doesn’t need to see Becca looking at him pityingly, like he’s some sort of dog with a terminal disease. Her dead dog look is crushing.

“No, it’s fine,” He snorts as he realises he’s used his mom’s least favourite word. “It’s… Well, it’ll be okay. Right? He’s probably already made some bullshit excuse to his friends and it’s not like they’re ever going to reach out to me. Although shit…” he trails off, biting his lip.

“What?”

Bucky looks back up at her, relieved to see that the dead dog look is off her face. “What the fuck do I say to Tony?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I don’t think it falls to you to say anything. If he asks, tell him to speak to fucking Captain America-”

“Shh!” Bucky says although he knows Becca can’t really be heard over the loud music in here. It’s busy but not heaving, mostly with locals who couldn’t give a shit about any sort of celebrity. Timothee Chalamet could be in here right now and nobody would give a shit.

“What?” she fires back, arching an eyebrow challengingly.

“I really don’t want headlines about how I was broken-hearted and smashed in a dive bar in Brooklyn.” He shakes his head when she goes to speak, sure that she’s going to misunderstand. “And not because of him but because I do _not_ look my best right now. My hair isn’t even styled. I will never forgive you if I end up on some gossip insta looking like this.”

Becca laughs at his poor attempt at humour but she still has her chin tilted up, a sure sign that she’s not about to back down. “I’m serious,” she insists. “Tell him that he’ll have to talk to that asshole himself to find out what happened. He’s Steve’s friend and your boss, totally inappropriate for him to delve into your personal life.” 

Bucky remembers Tony calling Steve an asshole. How Bucky was adamant that he wasn’t. He feels the same way even now. He shakes his head and disagrees, “He’s not an asshole.”

“He _is_ an asshole.” Before he can speak up, she starts to reel off the reasons why, counting them off using her fingers. “He left you alone after your Heat, let his AI tell you that he expected you to leave, and didn’t send so much as a text. Hasn’t for… How many days?”

Bucky hesitates. “Three-” At her look he sighs. “Yeah, okay- Nearly four.”

Becca sits upright on her stool, vindicated by his response. “Right. _Asshole_.”

And Bucky knows she’s not wrong, that Steve isn’t right for just leaving him to stew in his own vulnerability, but he can’t help but want Steve Rogers in his life. The Steve he knows - knew? - isn’t the Steve that left him to sleep in a cold bed. He’s caring and good-humoured, with a streak of dry humour that many don’t know about.

“Maybe you’re right. But he still could just be on a mission…”

Becca makes a disbelieving sort of ‘tsk’ noise. “Seen anything on the news?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, but I didn’t once before-”

“Bucky,” she interrupts and- Oh god, it’s the dead dog expression again.

He sounds prickly even to his own ears when he bites out, “What?”

“Just stop apologising for him,” she says softly. “You don’t have to. He’s a grown man and he’s made his choice.”

He’s made his choice.

He thinks back to Steve and how he said he chose to go through Bucky’s Heat with him.

And now he’s chosen to leave him.

It’s something he’ll just have to get used to. It’s not like Bucky’s a catch, not to somebody like Steve Rogers who is the epitome of an Alpha, even though he’d thought-

No. No, he can’t go down that route of ‘what if’ again. He doesn’t have enough leave to spend another three days on the couch as a Burrito Bucky. 

“Okay. Yeah, okay, you’re right. I have to…” He laughs bitterly. “Fuck knows how, but I have to try and get over Steve Rogers.”

Becca points to the shots on the bar, encourages him to pick one up. He does so and licks the back of his hand, lets her shake salt onto it. “Tequila helps.”

He licks the salt, does the shot, bites the lemon. Regrets everything as the alcohol burns down his throat. 

“Urgh, okay, one more round.”

  


* * *

  


It’s late when they leave the bar and everything is a little blurry, loud and bright. The icy wind whips Bucky’s hair into his face and he laughs, holds it back and reaches into his pocket for his beanie. He’s tipsy, still sad, but… Tacos? Becca said they were going to go to the taco place after the fifth… sixth shot.

Urgh, shots.

He’s going to haaaaate Present Bucky tomorrow.

They’re walking down the well-lit street, arm in arm, when Bucky catches a flash of red, spots a familiar face. His stomach lurches because no… _nonono_.

“Natasha?” he chokes out, face paling as he realises that it is in fact her. 

Steve isn’t on a mission. 

Steve just… Hasn’t called him.

For all that he kept telling Becca that he agreed with her after shot two… or three, in the bar, he didn’t. Not really. He’d just thought Steve was on some special mission with the others that he couldn’t tell him about.

But Natasha’s _here_.

“Barnes.” Natasha’s frowning, bundled up in an expensive-looking wool coat. Impressively, she’s walking on the icy sidewalk as if it’s nothing to her. Bucky supposes she learned how to scale a mountain in stilettos or something. “You seem… Drunk.”

He shakes his head, struck dumb for a moment. “You’re… You’re not on a mission?”

She looks between Bucky and Becca, a flicker of uncertainty in her green eyes. “No, I’m not. Should I be?”

Bucky feels sick to his stomach. No, Bucky doesn’t _feel_ sick, he’s...

“Oh god, I’m gonna-” Bucky turns away, stumbles to the side of a building and sticks his head into a dark alleyway. He feels his mouth water and his stomach clench as the tequila comes up, up, and out, and he’s vomiting in a splashy puddle. Becca’s hand is suddenly there, holding his hair back. “Oh god. Why now.”

“Hi, I’m Becca Barnes,” he hears, Becca’s tone unfairly _not_ as slurred as his. “I’m Bucky’s younger sister.”

“Natasha Romanoff.”

“Bucky is…” He straightens up, pulls a tissue out of his coat pocket to clean himself up, and kicks at her ankle. He knows Natasha doesn’t miss it and he doesn’t care. He’s miserable “Ow! Sibling catch-up. Tacos, tequila.”

“You’re a liar, you didn’t get me tacos,” he grumbles, refusing to meet Natasha’s eyes even though he can feel them on him. Assessing, no doubt. “God, I’m going to feel terrible tomorrow. Steve at least fed me water.”

Becca glares at him. “Well, Steve’s a dick.”

“Oh, is he?”

Bucky freezes, can’t help but look at Natasha with wide eyes. He can’t work out how to answer because he’s drunk, Natasha _doesn’t_ know anything about this, and he knows that Becca’s going to put her foot in it. It’s like a car crash on television and Bucky can’t bring himself to look away. Or stop it. 

A tiny, vicious part of him thinks that Steve deserves it.

“You’re defending his behaviour?”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“Bec-”

“My brother pretended to be in a relationship with him to get you all off his back, spent Christmas away from his family, fell in love with him, and then that asshole couldn’t even be bothered to fake-break up with him in person once he fucked him? He ran off on some sort of made-up mission? Who the fuck does that?”

Natasha raises her eyebrows. “Fake?” she asks lightly, not commenting on anything else.

It’s that that makes Bucky angry. He gets it, gets why she’d protect a friend of hers - and they _are_ friends in a strange, almost quasi-competitive way that he’s never going to fully understand - but to question what he’s saying? What he knows to be real?

He woke up in bed alone. Steve never came back. Steve never contacted him. 

The facts tell a clear story.

“I don’t care where he is. I don’t. I just want to go home,” he says, feeling almost shaky with how angry he is. He doesn’t want to say anything he shouldn’t, pretty sure that of all of the Avengers, Natasha isn’t the one to piss off. She holds grudges if even half of the stories he’s heard about her are true. “Becca, come on.”

“Wait, Barnes-”

“No, I… I don’t feel well.” He gestures over to the mouth of the alley but doesn’t look in that direction, none of them needing the visual reminder. “And I’m not doing this on the goddamn street. I have some fucking dignity, okay?”

Natasha grabs at his arm, unsurprisingly strong. “You don’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand, huh?” he asks, shrugging her off and glaring down at her. “I’m here, Steve’s not gotten in contact with me since leaving me after my Heat. And now…. Now you know that too,” he says, laughing bitterly. “Fucking… Ace. Can’t wait for you to all discuss how stupid I was at the next movie night. There’s nothing else _to_ understand. I’m going home.”

He turns on his heel, heads down the street with his arm firmly tucked into Becca’s so that she can’t stay back and argue some more with the Widow. He might be drunk but he knows down to his bones that that wouldn’t go well. 

Still, he’s not gone far enough to not hear Natasha when she calls out, “This isn’t over, Barnes. We need to talk.”

“Whatever, Natasha,” he calls back, not looking around but trudging forward down the icy sidewalk towards home. “What the fuck ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So The Talk ended up being No Talk... What do you think is going to happen next? I love to hear your theories.
> 
> Please come talk to me at [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/). Anon asks on TWIFFY are totally allowed!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for the awesome beta job. Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.
> 
> Okay guys, thanks for sticking with me. Now let's find out where Steve's been, fix the angst, and get out of the Pit of Despair...

The next morning he feels like death. In fact, worse than death. Decomposition? Yes. Bucky Barnes feels like a decomposed body. Somewhere hot like Texas. In August. Urgh. Why the fuck did he let Becca buy shots? And worse than that, why the fuck did he drink them?

He tries to remember the night before. There had been a bar, Becca buying drinks, way too many admissions about how much he loved Steve. And he’d excused him from being an asshole. Fucking hell, he _hates_ Past Bucky right now.

He also remembers shots. Oh, and throwing up in an alleyway. And something else too. Something important that he can’t quite recall- _oh god_.

Natasha fucking Romanov.

She was there last night, bundled up and looking completely unfazed. He’d told her that it was all fake. And that he was in love with Steve. He’d turned his back on her and had told her ‘whatever’.

He whimpers and shoots underneath his sheets, creating a cocoon, but it doesn’t work to make him feel better. He’s just clogging the air up as the scent glands in his neck emit a nervous, anxiety-laden scent. And he can smell stale alcohol. It’s a dire situation.

He’s still mulling over how he’s going to fake his own death and move to Belize or Costa Rica when his phone rings. He lets it go to voicemail, sure that it’s Becca or his parents, until his phone _speaks_.

“I know you’re there, Bucky.”

“Tony?” he asks, scrambles to grab his phone. Once he holds it up he sees that a call has been connected. Tony waves his fingers at him, grinning through the screen, and he moans in despair, “Oh my god, did you fucking hack my phone?”

Tony cackles, the pure glee signifying that indeed, he has. “Perks of creating it, right? You have to be able to leave yourself a back door in there for important moments,” he replies flippantly before frowning, presumably at the sight of Bucky. “You look like shit. I was almost starting to wonder if you really _were_ sick but I see I was suspicious for no reason.”

Bucky groans, pulls his hair out from its bun so it can at least cover his face. It’s a bad idea as he gets a waft of tequila, his stomach violently flip-flopping. “Yeah… Heat and then…” He doesn’t want to go into it and he assumes that Tony knows nothing or he’d have started with it. “I’ve not felt so good, I’m sorry.”

“You feel well enough to come in today?” Tony asks. “Pepper told me not to disturb you… But the Funding Board has an empty slot, another project bombed out yesterday. I thought we could put your application for further funds in there as a stop-gap, save us shuffling around all the appointments.”

Bucky sits bolt upright. This… This is huge. The deadening technology is in test at the moment, has been for a couple of weeks, but without funding, it won’t matter how good it is. It needs to have the approval of those with the purse strings and Bucky… Bucky hadn’t planned on doing this presentation for another month.

Not that he doesn’t already have it prepared. 

“You… Shit. What time would it be?” he asks, jumping out of bed and thanking every deity that he’s wearing clothes, considering he’s on FaceTime. His brain clangs noisily, a reminder that he is incredibly hungover, but it’s tempered with a mix of excitement and dread rushing through him.

“In three hours.”

He gapes. Three hours is no time at all. “But the team-”

“They’re good, Buckster. You’ve coached them well,” Tony says patiently. “They can do the simulation and I know you’re smart enough to talk it through with the Board Meanies.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Board Meanies?”

“That’s what I call them,” Tony confides. “That or the Fun Police.”

“Aren’t you on the Board?” he asks.

Tony rolls his eyes. “... When I go to meetings, I am. I try _not_ to go to the meetings but I’ll make an exception just for you.”

Bucky opens his closet door, picks the shirt that looks the most respectable. His fingers brush against the velvet of his tux jacket and he tries not to think about how he’d felt on that night, how _perfect_ he’d felt. “I need to get ready.”

“You’re not going to let me see you change? Rude. I’ll see you in an hour, Buckeroo,” Tony says, already looking away from the phone screen and at some paperwork in front of him instead. “Also tell your big, bad Alpha to call me back. I haven’t seen him since he got back from DC.”

Bucky freezes. “Uh- What?”

“Mr. Rogers,” Tony clarifies. “I’ve called him like three times over the past couple of days.” He looks up and grins at somebody, somebody Bucky can’t see. “Oh, Pep- Pep, Bucky’s going to take the slot.” He waves at Bucky before Bucky can stupidly ask ‘what’ again. “I have to go, I’ll see you later.”

His phone screen suddenly dims to black and Tony is gone. 

It leaves Bucky with one question and one question only: where the fuck is Steve?

  


* * *

  


It’s still on his mind as he travels to work. He doesn’t know whether to call Tony back and tell him that he _doesn’t_ know where Steve is. Does Natasha? Should he call Natasha? Or Sam? They seem closer to Steve then Tony but even then… Should he be worried? Is this something that Steve does?

He’s just jumped onto a subway car, the doors whumping shut behind him, when his phone pings with a message. He ignores it, knowing it’s likely Becca waking up and blaming him for her hangover. But then there’s another message and another and he’s just reaching down to his pocket when all of a sudden, _everyone’s_ phones ping. 

**EMERGENCY ALERT  
Terrorist threat high. Seek shelter immediately and do not leave your homes until further instructed.**

All hell breaks loose once people read the message, once they look around the carriage and see that everybody has received the same message. One woman screams, another near-faints, and there’s a sudden boiling of tension and fear, a discordant scent of terror as people try to pull the doors open, the emergency exit clearly not working as it should.

Bucky’s heart jackrabbits. Omegas don’t like stressful situations as a whole anyway but certainly not when they feel fearful. When they feel exposed. Unprotected. He remembers 2012, how terrified he’d been as he’d watched the news. He’d been at his parents’ then, the four of them watching the TV with mounting horror.

His parents… They’ll be working. He’s pretty sure his mom will be safe - there’s been too many school shootings to _not_ have emergency procedures - and his dad works from home mostly.

But Becca… Where is Becca? He prays that she’s taken a sick day, is lying in bed asleep and unaware of what’s going on.

He stares at his phone, paralysed, and jumps when it rings. He almost drops it in terror when he sees that it’s Steve.

Oh god. Steve.

If there’s an emergency in New York City then Steve’s out there somewhere.

“Bucky! Bucky, where are y-”

“What’s going on?” he breathes, puts his hand over his other ear so that he can hear Steve better. “I got an alert-”

Steve cuts him off. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you. We can’t run the tracker on your phone…”

Bucky can’t help but bristle at his tone. Steve hasn’t contacted him in _days_ , hasn’t given a shit, but now he does? And he’s mad that he can’t trace Bucky? 

“I disabled it.”

“What?” Steve shouts, over the background noise that sounds blurred, like Steve is moving quickly. “Why would you do that?”

“I thought that you were done with me,” he snaps back, “You seemed pretty done.”

“What- Why would you think-” Steve growls in irritation, “Fuck, we don’t have time for this. Where are you?”

“Why would I think that? Are you serious right now?” Bucky asks, half-wanting to laugh at the audacity of it all. Steve growls again and he tries to remember that there’s a NYC-level alert on his phone telling him to stay at home. That this _isn’t_ the time to tell Steve what an Alpha dick he is. Not when he’s terrified and people are screaming around him although the anger helps cut through the fear, clears his head a little. “I’m on the L, I got on at Lorimer Street but the emergency doors aren’t working. We can’t get off.”

Activity catches his attention and he spots a face he recognises. Once that makes him freeze because why is- Is he being paranoid as fuck to think it’s too much of a coincidence that his shitty ex is here right now? “Brock?”

“Fuck!” Steve yells and Bucky’s pulse jumps again in fear. “Get the fuck away from that asshole. Bucky, listen to me. Break the windows, get out, and encourage everyone else to do the same. Turn your tracker back on and go somewhere safe-”

Steve’s words are cut off by an almighty noise. Cacophonous. It sounds like the Earth is cracking in two, swallowing the carriage and Bucky is thrown as the carriage twists, blood and god knows what else hitting his face as he falls to the floor. His phone drops out of his hand and he can’t see where it’s landed.

“Steve!”

Something explodes. 

Bucky is helpless to do anything but lift his left arm up to protect himself.

Everything goes black.

  


* * *

  


It takes Bucky almost a minute to realise where he is. It takes him a few seconds longer to realise that he’s been roused to consciousness by someone screaming for help, the noise coming through over the ringing in his ears. He’s hurt, pain throbbing through his body, and making him gasp with just how overwhelming it is. He wiggles his toes, wiggles his fingers. He’s not paralysed but- his left fingers feel… He risks a look down, sees that there’s blood all over the sleeve of his winter jacket and it’s saturated blood. It’s _his_ blood.

Bucky counts to five. Tells himself that he can’t faint and that… Whatever’s happened. He just has to get it together right now.

“Help!”

Hearing a voice, a hysterical voice, concentrates Bucky’s thoughts, makes him lift his head. He can see from his vantage point that the carriage has fallen into some sort of chasm, that it’s rocked onto its side and a good thirty feet below the platform. He can see that people are injured, mostly seriously injured. He can see that some people are... Dead.

Oh God, oh fuck. A dead person. He’s looking at a goddamn dead person who was only playing on Candy Crush a few minutes ago.

He’s never seen a dead person before. The knowledge that he is, that they _are_ , makes him want to vomit.

He manages to sit up, ignoring the searing pain through his shoulder, and waits for the dizziness to go away. Once that’s done, he staggers to his feet.

“Help!”

It’s a woman shouting out and she’s trapped under part of the carriage wall. The side is completely blown off, the metal walls ripped and wrenched, looking like giant, brutal pencil shavings as they litter the carriage.

“Wait- Fuck, hold on,” he says as he sees her furiously trying to pull herself out from underneath it. He staggers forward, steps over a - oh god, they’re _dead_ \- person. He feels sick, sick and dizzy and how is this happening? “Let me lift that.”

The woman looks up at him, blanches at what she sees. “You… You’re bleeding.”

Bucky looks at the blood splatters on the floor and then back at her. “Yeah, I know. Hold on- I… I can do it. I think.” He tries to use both arms to heave up the metal but he can’t, his left arm can’t grip. He’s hurt and he feels a thread of terror rear up in him at the thought that if nobody finds them, he could be _permanently_ hurt.

He’s just trying to work his way down from that panic spiral, shoving desperately to try and move the metal, when he is blinded by a flashlight.

A flashlight? That means-

“Hello!” He’s never been so relieved to hear a Brooklyn accent and he can just about make out several people peering down at them through the smoky grime in the air. “Is anybody able to talk to us down there?”

“Here!” Bucky yells back, slumps against the metal. “We’re here, people are hurt- We need EMTs and ambulances…”

“Okay, sir. Bear with us, we’ll be with you as soon as we can-”

Bucky shakes his head, grips tightly at the metal with his right hand. “Hurry! People are dying down here!”

“A lot is going on above ground right now, Sir,” the man replies, his tone neutral. “Our resources are stretched-”

Bucky gets a niggling, sour, anxious feeling at that. What else could be more important than a fucking carriage falling into the goddamn earth?

“What?” he yells back.

“There’s a larger attack going on Avengers Tower right now but we don’t know if the two are connected.”

Bucky freezes. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t-

They _are_ connected. They are because Bucky was on the L Train and Steve knew, Steve wanted to get to him-

 _Steve_.

“What?!” he yells back, panic evident in his voice. “What- Are people there okay?”

“Sir, please remain calm.”

He whimpers. “I gotta- You gotta get me out of here.”

He steps up onto the edge of the carriage, looks at how the sheer, jagged bedrock savagely punctuates through the track. He… Can he climb it? He’s not sure he can, not sure that he could even with two arms. His left is hanging limply and he knows it’s not going to be any help to him like this.

He’s got to go and find Steve.

“Sir, don’t- Sir, stand down,” the policeman says, looking down at Bucky. “Help is on its way.”

Bucky’s senses overwhelm him and he can barely blurt out a muzzy, “Steve,” before he sways, falls, and everything goes dark once more.

  


* * *

  


Bucky is floating in a sort of twilight when he comes to consciousness next time. He’s still in pain but he knows instantly that he’s not still in the subway station. He can’t smell the fear or the blood or the metallic tang of the twisted up train. But he can smell… He can smell Steve.

He opens his eyes, the hospital room barely coming into focus. It’s bland, beige, and nobody is in the room with him. He tries to focus on the door, realises the conversation - argument - he can hear is coming from outside.

“-You can’t come in here right now. Mr. Barnes is sleeping-”

“Like hell I can’t-”

“Sir, you are _not_ family. Or his Mate.”

“Listen, ma’am. His family are on the way and they’ve authorised me-”

“And when they arrive and can verify that, I will gladly let you sit with Mr. Barnes-”

“What if he wakes up? He can’t wake up and be alone.”

“Mr. Barnes has suffered extensive injuries, Captain. He won’t be waking up for a while.”

“Please.”

“I can’t…. I’ll lose my job if I do. You’ll have to wait out here.”

Bucky tries to make his mouth work to voice that he wants Steve there, that he always wants Steve there, but he can’t. He blinks his eyes closed again and drifts back off to sleep.

  


* * *

  


“Bleh.” His mouth is dry and it tastes awful. That’s the first thing he notices and he scrunches his nose up, tries to reach out for a glass of water. He can’t move his arm and it’s that that makes him unglue his eyes and blink them open. They feel gummy and he realises with a spike of alarm that he’s in hospital.

Why’s he- Oh. _Oh_.

“Bucky?” Becca asks, her face coming into his vision on his right side. 

He turns his head, smacks his lips. Urgh. His mouth really _does_ taste awful. “Water. Becs. I- What-”

There’s a rustle and then a cup of water with a straw appears. He looks up at her, looks pitiful, and she rolls her eyes before she moves it closer to his mouth so that he can suck on it. Water has never tasted so good.

“There was an attack on the subway,” she tells him. Her face is pale and worried and he can’t help but want to reassure her that he’s okay.

He’s not okay. His head feels like it’s been hit by a tonne of bricks.

“Yeah, I… I kind of remember?” he replies, wincing as a couple of scenes - memories? - flash into his mind. “Fuck. Are you okay?”

She chuckles. “Yeah, Buckaboo. Takes more than that to keep me down.”

“Funny.” He manages to roll his eyes but it’s tiring.

“I was in bed,” she reassures him. “I tried to ring you but couldn’t get hold of you and then-” She cuts herself off and shakes her head. “You tried to help people out. That’s what the police said.”

Bucky frowns, vision going hazy as he tries to remember. He can remember flashes of what happened. Noises. Smells. There had been dead bodies. “I don’t… I don’t really remember much. There was a bang and then… Oh fuck…” He turns to the left, sees that his arm is suspended up in some sort of sling contraption. He can’t feel it although relievingly, he can move his fingers. “My arm.”

Becca sighs but he doesn’t turn his head away, eyes wide at the sight of his arm _hurt_. He never was a sick kid. Never went to hospital. This is… Shit, this is his first hospital stay and he has no idea how good his medical insurance is. Either way, it looks like an expensive injury. “It got hurt pretty badly. They did surgery on it as soon as you got here.” 

“What…” That gets his attention and he turns his head, winces at the pain of it. Everything feels heavy, slow. Like trudging through treacle. Molasses. Huh, molasses is a nice word. It takes him a couple of moments to refocus and realise that he’s on strong painkillers if he’s waxing lyrical about the word molasses. “Is it going to be okay?”

“I.. Yes,” she reassures him although he can tell from her tone that she doesn’t fully believe that. “I haven’t seen much of the doctor. He’s not been in today.”

Bucky frowns. “Today? Wait- What day is it?”

Becca brushes her hair back over her shoulder and fixes him with a look that clearly says ‘stop fussing’. “You’ve been asleep for about a day. Going in and out of consciousness.”

“Fuck,” he says, disliking the fact that he’s been so out of it. “I… I was on the phone. I was on the phone to Steve. He… Shit.” He struggles to sit up as a memory floods into his brain, a memory of Steve on the phone to him, asking him to find somewhere safe, to get off the subway. “The Tower was being attacked… Becca, where’s Steve?”

Becca sighs. “You want to see him?”

He makes a disbelieving noise. “Yes, I want to see him. Tony… Tony hadn’t seen him and I was worried and then Steve called…” He fixes her with a worried look. “Did something happen to him? I was trying to climb out of the- I was trying to get to him.”

Becca’s silent for a beat. Silent for several more and Bucky doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t want to ask. Is he… Could he be…

He’s going to throw him up.

“You really do love him, don’t you?”

Bucky nods frantically. “Yeah, I do. Wait- Becca, is he okay? Where are you going?”

Becca is walking towards the door, away from Bucky’s bed. She looks determined. “He’s okay but… Bucky. I think the two of you need to talk right now,” she tells him, fingers on the door handle. “And you need to actually talk. And you both need to listen to what the other is saying,” She opens the door and sticks her head around it. “Hey, Captain Asshole, do you want to come in?”

Bucky frowns, heart leaping into his throat. “What?”

And there’s Steve. Steve wearing… Wearing his Captain America outfit. It’s torn and dirty and his hair looks like he’s been running his fingers through it for hours. But he’s still hot. Hot and broad and those fingerless gloves give Bucky Very Inappropriate thoughts considering he’s in a hospital bed. Why… Why is he here? Dressed like that? 

Bucky doesn’t want to feel things for this man but he can’t help it, can’t help feeling more relaxed simply at the scent of Steve filling the air.

Urgh.

Steve edges into the room and Becca gives Bucky a pointed look before letting herself out. 

“Buck…” Steve says, coming towards the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re here,” he says dumbly, unable to articulate anything more intelligent. “You’re filthy… Have you… No.” He scrunches his nose up, trying to connect the dots but he can’t. His brain simply isn’t firing on all cylinders. “You’ve been waiting here?”

“Where else would I be?” Steve asks, pulling a chair close so that he can sit. He rests his forearms on the side of the bed and Bucky has to clamp his mouth shut so that he doesn’t ask him to touch him.

“But the Tower…” he says weakly.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s all over. Jarvis was taken offline but Tony got him back up and running and after that, it didn’t take too long. They were after something that wasn’t even there. I found out which hospital you were in and came straight away.”

“Everyone’s okay?” Bucky presses.

“ _You’re_ not okay,” Steve tells him, his voice cracking. “God, I was so worried about you.”

Bucky can’t look away from him and his heart flutters at the thought that Steve cares. Even though… No, he remembers his Heat, the lack of communication. He remembers all of that and so this doesn’t make any sense. 

“You were?”

Steve looks affronted at the question. “Of course I was. I was on my way to come and get you. The only reason I _didn’t_ run to Brooklyn was because Tony assured me that emergency services were on the way, that they’d figured it out it was a feint, and that the main attack was on the Tower.”

“What? Why?” Bucky asks, confused.

Steve reaches for his right hand, placing his hand over it. “...Why what, Buck?”

Bucky blinks back tears and hesitates for a couple of seconds before pulling his hand away. It feels difficult to move much and he doesn't know whether to call Becca in. He doesn’t have the energy for this. “You… This. You don’t… Steve, you don’t have to pretend that... I can’t deal with it if you _do_ pretend.”

“Pretend what?” Steve asks, frowning. “What do you think-”

“-That you care about me,” he blurts out, screwing his eyes shut so that he doesn’t have to see the look of pity on Steve’s face. “That you care about me. I can’t… I can’t handle that right now.”

There’s silence for a second. He cracks an eye open and is thoroughly unprepared for the determined gleam in Steve’s eyes.

“Pretend? Sweetheart, I love you,” he says, clasping his hand in both of his this time, the fabric of his gloves rough against his skin. “I think I’ve loved you since you handed my jacket back and it smelled of you.”

Bucky’s head reels. He… Steve loves him?

He’s loved him all this time? And… But… He hasn’t said anything, hasn’t let on, hasn’t even come on to him in the way that Alphas usually do when they’re interested. 

“...Oh.”

“Oh?” Steve asks, mouth twitching into a smile.

Bucky shakes his head. “But you… You left me. After my Heat…” he persists, shaking his head. “And. I heard you tell Natasha that you didn’t love me. That you didn’t know if I was the one for you.”

“You think I was going to tell Nat that I loved you before I told _you_?” Steve asks, giving him a fond look. “I was summoned to DC by the Secretary of State. I wasn’t given much of a choice and I didn’t want to wake you - actually, I’m not sure I could have, you were sleeping like the dead. Didn’t you read my note?”

Bucky ducks his head, feeling mortified and giddy at the same time. Steve _loves_ him. The words ping-pong around his head, seeming unreal.. “...No.”

Steve looks confused. “Why?” he asks, seems to struggle for words. Bucky gets a noseful of Steve’s scent and he can smell anxiety. He can’t help but run his fingers up and down Steve’s forearm, trying to calm him. “I… Is this why you never called me? I thought… I’ve been going out of my mind working out what I did wrong, hoping that you'd call me.”

Bucky bites his lip. “Jarvis said you’d told him to arrange a car to pick me and my things up. And then he said there was a note… I just thought that you were trying to let me down easy.”

Steve sighs. “I said Jarvis should do that _if_ you wanted to leave…” He hesitates before continuing, “Buck, you did say ‘we need to talk’ the night before… I didn’t want to force you into some sort of relationship but my note said that I couldn’t do this anymore, that I wanted to be with you for good.”

“I did?” he asks, half-wanting to laugh at how absurd it seems. “Stevie, I don’t even remember _saying_ that. I wanted to spend the morning with you and talk about if we could be together.”

Steve raises their joined hands and kisses his knuckle. “You really thought I wanted you to leave?”

Bucky nods, blinking back tears as he thinks about how upset he’d been that morning. “You weren’t there, there was a _note_ , and then Jarvis said that. What was I supposed to think?”

Steve’s eyes are hopeful when he asks, “Are… Do you care about me? You feel the same way?”

At that, Bucky _does_ laugh. And cries a bit at the same time. “Yes!” he exclaims. “Steve, fuck, yes. I’ve been in love with you for ages. I can’t remember what it feels like to not be in love with you.”

Steve looks stunned at the admission and Bucky briefly wonders if he’s said too much, revealed too much of his heart, but he quickly reassures himself. Steve loves him. _Loves_ him. Loves _him_. And he’s seen him at his best and worst. 

“See?” he prompts. “Not that easy to get your head around, is it?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate, leaning forward to press a kiss to Bucky’s lips. He keeps it chaste which Bucky is both thankful and regretful for. But he really wants to clean his teeth before engaging in a proper make-out with a super-soldier and he suspects that Steve feels the same way. “So the Heat… You… I didn’t drive you away?” Steve asks.

“No!” he exclaims, shaking his head and wincing when it makes his head spin. “No. Steve, it was, _you_ were - are - perfect… But you never called me. Even when you got back.”

Steve blushes and sits on the edge of the bed, discarding the chair. “Rut.”

Bucky blinks, wonders if he misheard because there’s no way that Steve would be back on his feet right now. “Say what?”

“I came back that afternoon, halfway to Rut and you weren’t there,” Steve explains, looking discomfited. “I hadn’t heard from you, you’d taken all of your things, and the note was gone. I thought… I thought I’d lost you.”

Bucky’s heart breaks at the admission and he whimpers. He can imagine it, imagine Steve coming back to an empty house instead of to the happy Omega he expected to see luxuriating in his sheets. His body raging with hormones and the need to claim, to bite, to own. He knows the pain of solo Heats, he can’t imagine what it’s like to want to fill and fuck and not have somebody there.

He struggles to sit up, ignoring the fact that most of his body is complaining at him. Screeching at him to stop, actually. “Oh, Stevie.”

“Shhh, don’t move,” Steve tells him, dipping down to kiss him again. “I wanted to call you, wanted to turn up at your door and carry you back to mine like some sort of cave man, but… I know you had a bad experience breaking up with Brock. I didn’t want to be like him-”

Bucky shakes his head firmly, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “You couldn’t be anything like Brock Rumlow if you _tried_.”

Steve strokes across his cheekbone, large hand cradling Bucky’s face. “I want to be _it_ for you.”

He turns and kisses Steve’s palm. “It?” he asks contentedly, wanting to wriggle when he starts to smell Steve’s happy scent coming through. He’s happy because of him, because of _Bucky_ , and it makes him happier than he can vocalise.

“It,” Steve repeats, hesitating before saying, “your Alpha.”

Bucky can’t help but purr at the idea of it, of being Steve’s Omega, and it makes Steve chuckle. Bucky huffs, mostly for effect, and tries to clear his head, to talk through some of his worries, “But… But Steve, you never _said_ anything. I just thought… I thought you didn’t want me. I was flirty enough.”

Steve smiles gently. “You told me how you were treated in the past, baby,” The thought of that makes him frown and Bucky nips at his thumb, reclaims his attention. “I thought it was best to step back and let you make a decision for yourself, not overcrowd you and force-”

“Woah. No,” he interrupts, adamant. “Steve, you’ve never forced me to do anything.”

Steve looks at him and Bucky wonders how he didn’t see it. How he didn’t see that Steve looks at him with nothing short of adoration in his eyes. 

Had he just not seen it? Or had Steve been hiding it? 

“I just thought I needed to be careful,” Steve explains, brushing Bucky’s hair back off his face. Bucky knows it must look a state and tries to duck his head but Steve ‘tsks’ at him. “Let you come to me.”

He looks up, wide-eyed. “But Alphas always make the first move, you dummy,” he blurts. “Why would I put myself out there?”

Steve chuckles and pinches at his chin lightly with thumb and forefinger. “Are you saying I should have just asked you out properly in the first place?”

“Yeah you should have,” Bucky says, gesturing for Steve to come closer so that he can scent at his neck. It’s that comforting woodsy smell that sends part of his brain to sleep and he takes a gulp of air, then another. Starts to feel a little sleepy. “Would have saved us a lot of time.”

“Would have meant that I could have kissed you a lot more,” Steve agrees, brushing his lips against Bucky’s. He barely pulls back when he murmurs, “I want to kiss you all the fucking time, sweetheart.”

Bucky moans softly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I…” Steve hesitates. “I haven’t been home. And you…”

Bucky twigs what he’s saying and chuckles, pressing his lips so Steve’s once more before settling back into the pillows. “Have the worst-tasting mouth in the world, yeah.” He pouts. “Fuck. I need Becca to go get us toothpaste but she’ll mock us forever.”

Steve tilts his head, kissing across Bucky’s neck. It feels good, so good, but his body isn’t nearly healthy enough for him to enjoy it without any pain. He doesn’t stop Steve though, using his right hand to stroke through Steve’s hair instead. 

“We’ve got the rest of our lives, sweetheart,” Steve rasps.

Bucky grins at the idea of it. Him and Steve _forever_. All of his stupid fantasies over the last few months are coming true. “You… You really want me as your Omega?”

Steve pulls back and stares at him. “Yeah, I do. Bought you a collar weeks ago.”

A collar. 

A sign of intent.

A sign of permanency.

They’re a little old-fashioned nowadays but they’re still used in lieu of an engagement ring for some couples. They don’t always look like collars, most look like a regular necklace, but there’s usually a padlock or a tag with something sentimental on it. They’re given ahead of a bonding, something an Alpha gives and hopes that the Omega accepts. 

He realises his jaw is hanging open and he clicks it shut with a small, disbelieving noise. “You… Seriously?”

Steve nods, smirks. “Was planning on taking you out for dinner and asking you proper-” He shuts up when Bucky pushes himself up enough to kiss him soundly. “Mmph.”

“Do it anyway,” Bucky half-pleads even though he knows Steve won’t gainsay him this. He’s never really denied him anything he’s asked for. “I know I know about it now but… Do it anyway.” He smiles happily, blinking back sudden tears. “I want it. I want _you_.”

“Whatever you want, Buck,” Steve replies, cradling his face in both of his palms and kissing him once more, almost a punctuation to his words. “I’ve always told you you can have whatever you want.”

Bucky thinks back to all the times he’s heard Steve say that. The tailor shop, the movie nights, over Christmas. Steve has said that _a lot_ and he suddenly needs to check-

“You- You meant that?”

“Every damn time,” Steve promises, amusement clear to see. “Now why don’t you sleep and I can go reassure your sister that she doesn’t need to kill me.”

Bucky grabs at Steve’s wrist, stops him from moving away. He wants Steve close, wants to keep breathing him in whilst he sleeps. “No. Stay,” he says plaintively. “I want you on the bed but with all of this…”

Steve shakes his head but he doesn’t do anything more than sit back down in the chair, his upper half folded across Bucky’s bed. “Not a good idea,” he agrees, leaning back to take his fingerless gloves off. Bucky realises how tired Steve looks and it makes his heart hurt to know that this man sat here for over a day waiting for him to wake up.

“I love you,” he says impulsively. “I really, truly love you.”

Steve’s lips tick up into a smile. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he promises. “Now sleep, Buck. I’ll be right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happier? Maybe? Come tell me!
> 
> Please come talk to me at [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/) about all things TWIFFY. Anon asks are totally allowed!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [Bec (darter-blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) for the awesome beta job.
> 
> Any and all mistakes left are undoubtedly mine.
> 
> So let's find out what happened to Brock... Followed by some tooth-rotting fluff.

The next few days are hazy for Bucky. He’s moved to the med bay at the Tower as soon as the hospital is happy to let him be moved, Steve a comforting, solid presence by his side throughout the entire transfer. Bucky lets himself enjoy it, grins even at Steve’s mother hen tendencies. He’s never felt so cherished, and the Omega in him is purring contentedly at the idea that Steve is all his. Forever.

His arm, however, is not so easily fixed. He undergoes another operation - this one spearheaded by the terrifyingly efficient Dr Cho - but he knows when he comes back around from the anaesthesia, groggy and slightly nauseous, that it isn’t right. Steve smells upset and Bucky looks towards him instinctively, pawing half-heartedly with his right arm to guide him closer.

Steve moves instantly, lacing his fingers through Bucky’s, and it gives Bucky a small comfort. Steve is _here_. Nothing terrible can go wrong with Steve here.

He drags his eyes towards Dr Cho and asks a question he doesn’t truly want an answer to.

“What’s wrong with it?”

She swipes the hologram she’s studying away and focuses on him. “There’s been extensive damage to the shoulder joint, James. I’ve repaired it as well as I can do, but time will be the greatest healer. I want to see how it settles and in the meantime I’ll work on your physical therapy.”

It’s not the answer he wants to hear but he had expected it. He knew he’d done something bad to it, remembered the blood and the searing pain.

Bucky swallows, continues, “But… You don’t think I’ll get full functionality back, do you?”

She shakes her head. “I think you’ll get most of it back and I think that most people would be satisfied with that. However, what I’m concerned about for now is your fine motor skills-”

“But I’m an engineer,” he interrupts, straining to sit upwards. Steve holds him down, stops him from doing more damage to himself and the arm currently suspended in some sort of fancy sling. “Doctor, I _need_ fine motor skills.” 

“I know you do,” she tells him, her voice grave. “I will be talking to Tony and Bruce to see if there’s anything that-”

Bucky feels like his thoughts are jumbling around, like laundry in a washing machine. He thinks about the different journals he’s read over the year, wishing he’d read more in the medical field.

Then, suddenly, something comes to him-

“Exoskeleton!” he exclaims. “Tell Tony to talk to Bobby on my floor. I know he’s been working on a new prototype which is designed to help injured vets and… I mean, being a guinea pig wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Steve cuts in with, “You’re _not_ being a guinea pig.”

Bucky glares back, bristling as much as anybody can bristle in a hospital gown with hair that hasn’t been washed for a week. “Steve, this is my _job_. I’ve spent the last twelve years of my life trying to become the best engineer I can be.” 

“But-”

He shakes his head mulishly and doesn’t look away from Steve’s face as he speaks, “Dr Cho, please just ask Tony to speak to Bobby. If it doesn’t work then… Then we’ll regroup. But I think…” He squeezes Steve’s fingers with his own. “It _might_ work, Steve.”

He tears his gaze away from Steve to look at Dr Cho, sees her gathering her things together. She looks at him and smiles politely but he can tell it doesn’t meet her eyes, probably won’t until she’s confident in the odds she can give him. Regaining most of his arm’s functionality would probably be fine for others but it won’t work for him. 

“Thank you, James, I will talk to him,” she promises. “I hope that we’ll have you out of here by the end of the week. Will you be going back to your apartment? You’ll need a significant amount of help to start with.”

Bucky looks to Steve who stands a bit taller. “He’ll be coming to mine. I’ll look after him.”

“Oh I will, will I?” he asks, revelling in the idea that he _can_ be confident in knowing that Steve will look after him. “Going to do battle with my mom over that honour?”

Steve frowns. “Well… I thought…”

“I’m kidding,” he assures him, pulls him down - as best he can, he couldn’t move Steve at all if Steve didn’t want to be moved - for a chaste kiss. “Of course I want to come to yours. Who wouldn’t want to live in luxury with an Alpha to wait on them hand and foot?”

“Bucky…”

Dr Cho chuckles at their antics, making Bucky blush a little. “I’ll leave you both to it. Steve, I’ll want you to be here when I run through Bucky’s PT seeing as he’ll need your help for it.”

“I’ll be here,” Steve promises her. He waits for her to leave the room but it’s barely five seconds until he is pulling a chair up to the bed and sitting next to Bucky, looking at him with clear frustration. “You shouldn’t be a guinea pig.”

Bucky flattens his mouth, biting on the inside of his lips so he doesn’t argue back because he appreciates Steve’s attention, likes it when he’s overbearing sometimes, but he’s not about to listen to Steve tell him… Whatever he’s going to tell him. “Mmm.”

It fools nobody. He knows it when Steve says, “Buck.”

“Yes, Stevie?” he asks sweetly. 

Steve’s tone is faintly chiding. “Are you listening?”

Bucky sighs and tips his head back, looking at the ceiling because it’s easier. “Yes but… I’m an engineer. I work in terms of possibilities. And Steve, I _know_ that Tony won’t approve its use until it’s been looked at, tested, and discussed with Dr Cho. If it’s then deemed an option then I’ll at least consider it. It fits on the outside of my arm and just helps support my body’s movements, it’s not going to be very invasive.”

“But if it doesn’t work…”

Bucky looks at him, sighs when he sees how sad Steve looks on his behalf. Part of his hindbrain tells him to make his Alpha happy, to be a good Omega, but he’s too tired and achy to think about that right now. “Let’s think about that another day,” he suggests, pulling their joined hands to his lips so he can kiss across Steve’s knuckles. “I had the worst nightmares last night about the subway and I’m tired. I think it was my anxiety about this operation.”

Steve winces in sympathy. “Remember anything else?”

It’s something he’s been asking since Bucky started to get his memories back. From the little Bucky knows - because apparently he is never going to get the clearance he’d need to understand all of it and Steve hasn’t wanted to upset him - the perpetrators of the subway attack haven’t been found yet. 

“Not…” A memory flashes into his memory. He sees Brock standing on the platform, scanning the carriages as if looking for somebody. “Brock.”

Steve frowns, fingers tightening around Bucky’s. “Brock?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Brock was there. It…” He shudders. “No, it wasn’t a dream. He was there that day... On the platform just before everything went to shit.”

“You’re sure of it?” Steve asks, voice steady but laced with steel. His eyes look alight with purpose, with passion, and Bucky sees _Cap_ for the first time.

Bucky nods. “Yeah… Why?”

“I… We’re still trying to piece together what happened, Buck,” Steve replies, brushing his fingers through his hair. “I can’t tell you everything but… JARVIS found some chatter about you being kidnapped and about attacks on the city. It was all very quick and completely out of the blue and we’re working on tracking that back to the source. That’s why the terrorist alert was set to high, to try and keep people safe and to try and deter those assholes from executing their plan.” 

Bucky blinks and shakes his hand loose of Steve’s, digs his thumb into his temple as a headache starts to flare. He’s been getting them on and off for the past few days and they feel like somebody’s trying to break his skull apart with an icepick. “Wait- What the fuck was that about me being kidnapped?”

Steve gets up and retrieves a cold, wet flannel from the refrigerator in the room. He passes it across and Bucky murmurs his thanks as he fits it onto his forehead. “I wanted to have more information before I spoke to you about it. I think they used you as bait to distract us and cause chaos and it worked…” Steve looks angry and Bucky knows it’s directed towards himself more than anything. “But for that to happen, somebody needed to know your movements and needed to be watching you.”

Bucky feels cold and it’s not just the ice pack. Somebody was _watching_ him. Somebody wanted him to _hurt_.

“You… You think it was Brock?” he confirms.

Steve nods, sharp and tight. “I think his appearance at the subway is highly suspicious. You also said his name just before the phone cut out… I wasn’t sure if you remembered that or not.”

“Steve.” He shudders at the thought, yelping as his left arm jostles in its sling. “Shit!”

Steve’s up and out of the chair instantly, doing his best to curl his bulk around him. Bucky gets a lungful of his scent and tries to relax, tries to focus on that and not how his heart is suddenly beating fast and discordant. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Nobody is going to get to you here.”

“But…” he says, increasingly horrified as pieces start to drop into place. He can’t help but remember the bodies in the carriage, the injuries he saw. The pain he felt. “People died. People _died_. Because of me-”

“No, Buck.”

He turns his head, cool flannel sliding off. He doesn’t care, pressing his face into Steve’s chest as if he can hide from the truth. “They did.”

Steve’s voice wraps around him, low and steady. “You think I don’t think that? Every time I go out on a mission and there’s casualties? _You_ didn’t kill them.”

It’s different. It’s different because Steve tries his hardest to save people whereas Bucky… Bucky’s a liability. He’s damaged goods. He doesn’t deserve somebody like Steve.

“But…” He shakes his head, clings harder. “Steve.”

“But nothing, baby,” Steve says soothingly, one large hand cradling his head and the nape of his neck. “You didn’t pull a trigger, detonate a bomb, throw a grenade. If anything this is _my_ fault for making you a target.”

And no… No, Steve _can’t_ think like that. Bucky won’t let him think that way, because Steve saves the goddamn world on a daily basis. Even before he’d met him, Bucky would think how unfair it was that the Avengers got bad press for what they did. It wasn’t like they _needed_ to help. They weren’t under any sort of obligation. Human civilisation would have been over long ago if it wasn’t for heroes such as Steve.

“No.” Bucky tilts his head up, locks eyes with Steve because- No. Steve isn’t doing this. “Stevie, no. I knew… Fuck, I knew there was always a possibility that I’d be used to get to you. I… I just didn’t expect for it to actually happen.” He bites at his lip. “Can we… How many people died?”

Steve rubs his thumb over Bucky’s cheekbone, face showing nothing but concern. “In all the carriages? Sixteen.”

Sixteen people. Sixteen people who had lives, who had families, who potentially had people to support. 

“Fuck.” He leans into Steve’s touch, closes his eyes because Steve’s gaze is too much. Everything is too much. “Can we help the families? Of those that lost people?”

“Sure we can, Buck,” Steve says, reassuringly. “But we’ll also get them justice.”

And there’s that tone again. It’s Captain America, and Bucky can relax because Steve has this. Cap has this. The bad guys won’t get away with what they’ve done and even if he can’t bring people back, he can’t change anything, it’s… It’s a start.

He suddenly feels exhausted. The emotions and the revelations of the last half an hour are enough to leave him weak as a kitten when mixed with the lingering anaesthetic in his system.

“Okay,” he murmurs, opens his eyes and frowns. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

Steve hums in agreement and presses his thumb to Bucky’s lower lip, smiling when Bucky kisses it. “Major surgery will do that to you,” he agrees. “Why don’t you sleep and we’ll see about getting you a bagel when you wake up. I’m sure your parents will come by soon and I can text them to ask if they’ll bring you a lox.”

Bucky doesn’t know how Steve has his mom’s number. But it’s… Nice. Domestic. Something he wants even though he feels bad for how many messages Steve must be fielding on his behalf. Winnie is nothing if not smothering when one of her kids is sick.

He lets Steve pull the covers up over him and snuggles into the pillow, markedly much nicer than those at the hospital. “Mmm, okay. Just a small nap though.”

  


* * *

  


When he wakes up again, he knows that Steve isn’t there. There’s a distinct lack of smell and he whines, doesn’t want to open his eyes. It feels like the Heat again, feels like waking up alone and-

“Good afternoon, Rapunzel.”

His anxious thoughts turn to alarm and he opens his eyes, turning his head. Natasha is sitting across an armchair, legs hanging over the arm of it. She’s tossing and catching a knife. A _knife_. What the fuck is his life?

“Natasha?” he questions because he thinks it deserves a question. Also she’s holding a knife and Bucky remembers the last time that they spoke, he was drunkenly rude to her. After vomiting in her presence. Great. She’s here to kill him. “Where’s Steve? And Rapunzel?”

She smiles slyly. “You have nice hair,” she replies. “But you can calm down. He’s not far away, he just had to make a few phone calls and wanted somebody to sit in with you in case you woke up. Seems like your ex has gotten himself into quite the predicament.”

Bucky’s stomach sinks as he recalls his conversation earlier.

“Brock? He _does_ have something to do with it?” he asks, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Urgh, I need to wash.”

“I’m sure Rogers will give you a sponge bath,” she teases, catching the knife with a flourish before moving, sitting up properly and staring at him. “As for Rumlow, he plays a minor role but quite an important one.” She pauses, debates her words. “What do you know about Hydra?”

Hydra?

Bucky’s first response is to say ‘nothing’ but then he remembers Brock’s leather jacket, the overly dramatic skull-octopus logo on the arm. 

He can’t help but laugh. “Wait. Brock’s motorcycle gang friends?”

Natasha nods, then adds, “They’re a bit more than that.”

And that… Wow. Okay. What the fuck has Brock got himself into?

Bucky frowns. “They used to hang out at a bar down in Red Hook. Zola’s? Something like that,” he tells her, “I only went once but it was basically empty so I couldn’t see why they hung out there. The bar owner was some creep by the name of Pierce, Brock did some work for him in security after he got out of the army.”

He falls silent then and waits for Natasha to speak. She seems to be internally parsing through the information he’s told her and he doesn’t know whether to continue or not. “You mentioned a Pierce.”

He nods, remembers how much he’d disliked the Alpha at the bar. “Yeah. Older guy, dead behind the eyes, smelled terrible and looked at me- Bleh.” He shivers. “Brock never shut up about him, thought he was the best. But after Pierce showed interest in me, he never talked about taking me to the bar again. I think Pierce owned a few properties around Brooklyn and I… I didn’t ask. I thought Brock was just doing his regular security work.”

Natasha looks away, towards the window. She seems to be making some type of decision on what to let him know and he knows that whatever it is, it’s more to do with trust than whether or not she has permission. He’s learned that much about her over the past few months. “Barnes… You need far more clearance than you currently have, but you should know… Hydra isn’t what it seems. They’ve been after an artefact that is in our safe-keeping. Brock, you… This just gave them an opening to try and seize it. They’re a terrorist organisation, one we’ve kept an eye on for a while now.”

Bucky blinks. Hydra is… Brock is… 

“Fuck!” he exclaims, feeling stupefied. “They’re… No.”

Natasha nods sharply. “Afraid so.”

And this. This just proves that it _was_ Bucky’s fault. Brock’s leaking of his name, the attention, the leaked nudes… Was this all to test if his relationship with Steve was real? Whether Steve would come to his defense? Was Bucky just a fucking Omega pawn in all of this bullshit?

“Shit…” he breathes, feeling a familiar burning behind his eyes as his emotions overwhelm him. “So I _was_ to blame.”

Natasha tsks as she gets up out of the chair, moving to the side of the bed and reaching over him for a tissue. She hands it to him and smirks. “Barnes, don’t play the martyr. We already have one of those.”

“Huh?”

She gestures to the door with a dismissive wave. “Steve.”

Which. Yeah, okay. Steve can feel bad about accidentally squishing a spider. 

It makes him chuckle and he wipes away his tears. “I’m not as bad as him.”

Natasha arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I don’t know,” she says doubtfully. “You did decide to not admit that you’d fallen in love with the idiot and instead vomit in an alley, right?”

Bucky is never, ever going to hear the end of that little display of dramatics, even if he feels that they were well-warranted at the time. He feels it to his very bones.

“...Fuck.”

She laughs and takes a seat on the bed by his feet. “I knew it was some sort of sham to start with but…” She shrugs, “I have to admit that by Christmas, I thought that the two of you had sorted it out. That’s when you overheard us talking, right?”

Bucky freezes, stares at her with an expression that he knows must show his shock.

“You knew?”

She grins back at him. “That it was fake?” she clarifies, clearly amused when Bucky manages a nod. “I did when I saw that you’d recently started at Stark Tower and then checked the elevator footage from your first day.”

Bucky throws his head back, glad that there’s a multitude of pillows there and not a wall. Although a wall would feel far more satisfying. “Fuck.”

She pats at his ankle through the blanket. “Relax, Barnes, I’m pretty sure nobody else checked. It quickly became clear that you weren’t in contact with your ex and you weren’t a threat... And that the two were meant for each other, so I didn’t interfere.”

Bucky glares at her half-heartedly. “You’re a real pal,” he says sarcastically. “But… You know that I eavesdropped?”

She nods. “Steve told me a little about you two idiots once you were transferred here.”

Bucky’s heart flutters and he can’t help but preen at the idea that Steve talks about him. To his friends. And it’s _real_. “He did?”

“Yes.” She can obviously smell how pleased he is because she twitches her nose and gives him a considering sort of look. “I went to his place the morning of the attack.”

The morning after she’d seen him drunk. And angry. And upset. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Shit. What… What did you say?”

Natasha chuckles. “Well, he was surprised to see me on his doorstep in the morning at eight. I know you didn’t mean to divulge what you did-”

Bucky makes a dying sort of noise, “Kind of mortified by it, actually.”

“-Right, so I want to assure you that it’ll go no further. I only wanted to understand what was going on considering I _knew_ he loved you. Steve Rogers can’t act for shit, try taking him on _any_ mission where he has to blend in and be a spy.”

Bucky fists his good hand in the coverlet. “And what did he say?”

“We didn’t get a lot of time to talk about it. He still stunk of the last stages of Rut which at least made me realise why we hadn’t seen him in a few days,” she confides with a wrinkle of her nose. “But I did tell him that he’d upset you and, fake or not, he’d better make it right if he knew what was right for him seeing as you two were made for each other. That’s when Tony sent an Assemble alert.”

Bucky relaxes his grip on the sheets. “So… I have you to thank?”

“For you two idiots getting together?” She grins and pats his ankle once more before gracefully getting to her feet. “Perhaps. If you’re thinking of a thank you gift, I prefer deadly weapons to a gift card.”

Bucky has no idea how to get deadly weapons. 

Tony does though.

“I’ll… Work on that,” he replies, apropos of anything else to say.

“You do that,” she tells him, amusement clear in her voice. She looks down at her watch as it chirrups and a Quinjet flies past the window, presumably up to the launchpad on the top of the tower. “That would be my ride, which means Steve will be back soon. I’ll see you later, Barnes.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Bucky.”

She raises her eyebrows. “What?”

“My friends call me Bucky,” he explains, wondering if trying to befriend a Black Widow is the stupidest thing he’s done to date. “And you’re… You’re a friend.”

Natasha smiles enigmatically and Bucky isn’t sure he’ll ever read her properly but she seems pleased about it. “Then I’ll see you later, Bucky.”

  


* * *

  


Bucky and Steve move into Steve’s brownstone by the end of the week. Bucky’ parents visit once a day - so his mom can fuss over them both and his dad can wander around looking at the art on the walls - but they approve of Steve doing his care-taking thing. Bucky knows this because his mom gives him the thumbs up whenever Steve has turned his back and can’t see her doing it. Steve probably suspects something is up the second time Bucky giggles when he sees Winnie do it. He doesn’t think his innocent face is working at all.

It’s a few days later that they graduate from sponge baths to an actual bath. They can’t have the water level high with Bucky’s arm, and he’s got a waterproof covering on his sling just in case, but he feels much better for feeling fresh water on his skin. Even if he _did_ like Steve sponging him down.

He idly pokes at the faucet with his toe, utterly relaxed at the feeling of Steve’s large hands in his hair. He’s shampooing it for him. Bucky had begged him to because he’s sick of having it up in a hair tie looking and feeling gross. 

He’s in love; he’s supposed to look fucking fabulous.

Steve’s voice cuts into his reverie, “Temperature okay?”

Bucky nods and grins, opening his eyes and tilting his head to look up at him. “Mmhmm.”

“You falling asleep, baby?” Steve asks, smiling. “You know we can do this later-”

“No, no! I’m awake, I promise,” he says quickly, water splashing as he half-turns to look at Steve properly. “And my hair is _gross_ , Steve. I was just… Relaxed.”

Steve tugs on a lock of his hair, chuckling when Bucky scowls. “This is nice.”

Bucky smiles shyly at the admission. “Yeah?”

Steve nods, arm wrapping around Bucky a little tighter. “Never did much of the domestic stuff with Sharon is all.”

Bucky preens and he knows Steve can smell it when he laughs. “Are you telling me that you’re a domesticity virgin, Stevie?”

Steve snorts. “Buck.”

“What?” he mock-complains, pouting. “I have to have the upper-hand somewhere. It’s hard when you’re dating a super soldier.”

Steve leans forward, drops a lingering kiss on his pout. “I know for a fact that you’re as clueless at this as I am. I also know that you’re entirely aware that you have me wrapped around your little finger. I’d give you anything you want and you know it.”

He chuckles and when Steve leans back, he chases, kissing Steve once more. He likes that he can do this, that he knows where he stands. It gives him a confidence that he didn’t realise he’d been lacking to know that this big, brave, beautiful man is all his. “Mmm, I know. But it’s nice to hear it.”

Steve works the shampoo into his hair. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut and he groans at how good it feels. “You want me to tell you how beautiful you are right now?”

Bucky makes a doubtful noise. “That might be a step too far. I’m gross, I’m-”

“Beautiful,” Steve tells him, his voice rough and deep. It sparks something in Bucky’s soul, something that recognises its mate. Its soulmate. “My beautiful Omega.”

He squirms and raises a wet hand to Steve’s face, leans in to kiss him deeply. It’s teeth and tongue, enough to have Bucky’s dick hardening more than it’s already been from being naked and near to Steve. “Fuck, how did I luck out and get you?”

“I have no idea about lucky, sweetheart, but am I ever glad that I got into that elevator that day,” Steve tells him, ocean-blue gaze locked on his. He smiles a little. “You looked so upset and I knew there and then that I wanted to look after you.”

Bucky feels overwhelmed with sheer emotion at the admission. The love he feels for this man is beyond what he can comprehend. Can ever vocalise. Telling Steve he loves him every minute for the rest of his life doesn’t feel like enough. “Stevie.”

Steve smiles a little brighter. “You’re the only person who calls me that,” he replies, reaching for the plastic cup on the side of the tub. “Now c’mon, tip your head back so I can rinse your hair and get you out of here before you get cold.”

Bucky complies, sighing happily as the water sluices through the suds and Steve rinses. “Won’t get cold. You’re in here with me.”

Steve tilts his head, kissing over Bucky’s scent gland and _oh_ that feels good. “Is that right?”

“Mmhmm,” he replies, shifting his ass backwards. “God, that feels- Oh, _hello_.”

Steve’s half-hard against his ass. Bucky flushes with heat, with want, and it’s all he can do to not shove back against it needily, instead rolling his hips and sighing happily when Steve’s cock rubs up against him.

Steve drops a kiss on his shoulder, hand coming up to cup Bucky’s throat. “Ignore it, it’ll go away.”

He whines instinctively at the feel of Steve’s hand, tilting his head back onto Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t want to-”

“Buck.”

It’s an admonition but Bucky can tell that Steve doesn’t mean it. Knows deep down that Steve wants him just as much as he wants Steve. He can _smell_ it, smell the way that Steve’s scent grows muskier, deeper.

Bucky’s blood rushes south. He’s hard just smelling Steve’s arousal and he gasps, “You’ve not touched me since my Heat.”

“That’s not-” Steve rumbles, thumbing over Bucky’s throat with a self-control that Bucky finds impressive. “Sweetheart, that isn’t fair. You’ve been injured.”

“And?” He braces his hand on the side of the bath and wriggles backwards, wanting more contact. “C’mon Steve. Been half-hard since I got in the damn bath and you just said you could have whatever I wanted.”

Steve growls. “Bucky…”

“ _Alpha_!” Steve’s scent flares and Steve’s one arm tightens around his waist, rocking up against Bucky’s ass and making the water splash. “Yeah, you like that.”

Steve nips at his scent gland, uses the hand holding Bucky’s throat to tilt his head so that he can kiss him claimingly. “You have no idea.”

“What- _Shit!_ ” Bucky’s suddenly left shivering and cold as Steve scoops him up, lifting him out of the bath. He laughs delightedly. “Are you dragging me back to your lair right now?”

Steve chuckles, lifting Bucky effortlessly - _effortlessly_ \- so that he can kiss him. He shifts Bucky’s not inconsiderable weight like it’s nothing, so he can pick up a couple of huge fluffy-looking towels from the rail, slinging them over his shoulder. 

“No,” he replies smugly. “I’m carrying you to it.”

Bucky grins, relaxing into the hold and waving airily with his one good arm. “Well, carry away.”

Steve places him down on the bed carefully, murmurs an, “At your service, Omega,” that _does_ things to Bucky. Because as much as he likes being at Steve’s mercy - and he does, he really fucking does - it’s a novelty to have an Alpha wanting to please him.

Steve dries him off, the gesture oddly erotic with how he’s staring at Bucky like he’s some sort of revelation. Bucky wants to squirm under the scrutiny and the adoration, knows he doesn’t look his best right now but he can’t, not with Steve’s eyes pinning him and making him feel _special_. “Jesus, look at you.”

He scoffs, waves a hand grandly down his body. “Sure, except for the bruises.”

Steve tsks. “Hey, none of that- Look at me,” Bucky is hesitant to look up but does when Steve moves, straddling him carefully and tilting his chin up so that Bucky’s helpless to look anywhere but at that beloved face. The dark gold of Steve’s hair, those plump pink lips, the slight crookedness of his nose that Bucky knows is from his scrappy youth. “Baby, look at me. You’re beautiful. Your bruises will fade and then nobody, _nobody_ , is touching a hair on your head again, okay?”

Bucky can’t help but flush. He writhes underneath Steve and- _oh_.

Oh, Bucky _wants_ Steve’s cock, can feel it - thick, long and warm against his own.

“Okay,” he agrees, unable to think of anything more coherent, not when he has a driving need to get his mouth or his hand on Steve’s cock. “Steve?”

He can feel himself getting slick and knows Steve’s caught on to what’s going on when he smirks, “Yeah, sweetheart? Want something?”

“Can…” He licks his lips, stares into Steve’s eyes. “I want to suck you off.”

Steve groans. “Fuck.”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky says, delighted at the reaction and the way that Steve’s eyes darken slightly. He _knows_ what that means now. Finally. “I really… I missed your Rut-”

Steve rasps out, “That wasn’t your fault.”

“I… We’re never going to agree on that,” Bucky replies, his good hand snaking down between their bodies to circle Steve’s cock. He’s thick, almost too thick, and Bucky whines when he can only just get his hand around him. “I want to make you feel good. You made me feel _so_ good in my Heat, Steve.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, not moving a muscle and letting Bucky just feel, play. 

Bucky has no such self-restraint and he lets go of Steve to push him back, scrambles up to a sitting position.

“Yeah… So. I want…” He looks between the two of them and down at his arm. It’s the work of a moment to get the waterproof bag off it but it still leaves him with his arm immobilised in a sling. “Shit, how do we do this with my arm?”

Steve pulls him close for a kiss. “You want to do the work or do you want me to-”

“Me,” Bucky says adamantly, running his eyes slowly down Steve’s body. He’s gorgeous, all pale skin and toned muscles. Steve has a curvature to him that drives Bucky insane with how much he wants to touch and feel and taste because it’s so at odds with how large and broad he is. He gets up off the bed and pats for Steve to sit at the edge. “How about if I kneel. That’s… Easier.” 

He drops to his knees between Steve’s spread thighs, head swimming with the scent of Steve here. It takes a moment for him to anchor himself, turning enough that his injured arm isn’t going to get too jostled, because Steve suddenly caring about that is going to kill the mood and Bucky really, really wants that cock on his mouth right now. He wraps his hand around it, licks up from root to tip with the flat of his tongue. “Fuck, you’re _big_.”

When he looks up, Steve’s watching him, hands fisted into the sheets. “You like that?”

“I do but I like it better with your hand in my hair,” Bucky barely gets the words out before Steve’s hand is stroking at his hair, thumb rubbing at his temple in the way he knows Bucky likes. “You know I do. Never thought I was much of a size queen but…”

Steve’s chuckle is choked off as he kisses the head, presses his tongue into the slit playfully. Steve’s filling to full hardness quickly and Bucky loves it, kisses and nuzzles and teases until Steve’s cock is solid and throbbing under his lips.

And then? Then he gets to work. He’s been told he has dick sucking lips for years now, knows the picture he makes with his mouth stretched around the girth of Steve’s cock.

“Shit, Bucky,” Steve already sounds rough, voice low. “You got any idea how good you look doing that? Your lips. Fuck, honey.”

Bucky lets the words soak in, balances himself better so he can take Steve’s cock in deeper. He alternates the pressure, uses Steve’s gasps and desperate clutching at his hair as his cues. It’s a powerful feeling, to have an Alpha at _his_ mercy, reliant on him for pleasure. Bucky revels in it, realises with a jolt that this is the first time he’s really wanted to give it so freely. He whines, wanting more.

“Yeah, you like that, baby? Like hearing how good you look taking my cock? Jesus, I’m close.”

He pulls off and jerks Steve off quick and fast, gasps a breath. “Want it,” he says, voice hoarse. “Wanna taste you, Alpha.”

Bucky looks up, sees how Steve’s chest is heaving, flushed pink from arousal. Steve’s eyes are on him and Bucky keeps up the eye contact as he bobs his head, sucks hard on the head as his hand moves up and down. “Fuck! M’gonna come, Buck, baby-”

Bucky can’t look away. Steve’s eyebrows pinch together, mouth dropping into an ‘oh’ as his orgasm rushes through him, and it’s a sight that Bucky wants to see forever. He swallows quickly, relishing in the salty tang of Steve’s come, but he can’t take it all. He feels it leak out of the side of the mouth even as he swallows and he falls back onto his heels, darts his tongue out to catch it. Then he leans back in to lick up what he’d missed, chuckles when Steve shivers from, Bucky guesses, over-sensitisation.

“Mmm,” he says, laughing when Steve pulls him back by his hair. “No, I wanna play.”

Steve laughs softly, his smile gentle as Bucky rests his head on his thigh and grins up at him. “You smell pleased with yourself.”

“Fuck yeah,” he replies. “I’m smug as fuck-” He’s not prepared for Steve to move and lift him off his knees, place him back on the bed without somehow jostling his arm. Steve settles, stretched out alongside him. “Jesus, I love it when you manhandle me. I never thought… Nobody’s ever made me feel like an Omega before.”

Steve frowns, brushes his knuckles down Bucky’s cheek. “What do you mean?”

Bucky ducks his head. “Just… I’m big for an Omega, you know? From far enough away, most people take me for an Alpha. It’s hard to feel… Overwhelmed. In a good way,” he hastens to say, looking up. “You make me feel special.”

He’s unprepared for Steve to be speechless. He’s not sure what it means for a moment and he’s relieved when Steve leans over and kisses him sweetly. 

“You’re perfect,” Steve replies, sliding his hand down Bucky’s body and smirking at Bucky’s shiver. “Gonna let me show you how perfect you are, make you feel good?”

“Yes.” Bucky wants everything Steve will give him and he goes to say more but he makes a crucial mistake.

He yawns. Audibly.

“Bed,” Steve says affectionately. “I _knew_ you were tired.”

Bucky shakes his head vehemently, looping his free arm around Steve’s neck to stop him from rearing back and physically putting him to bed. Not that he can stop Steve, not really, but it’s enough to settle him. “No, no. I’m not… I… I’m still hard and... I think I’m too tired to fuck though.”

“No kidding,” Steve says, brushing his damp hair back off of his face. “What do you want?”

Bucky doesn’t have to think about it but it makes him blush nevertheless. He’s not used to owning his pleasure, to feeling secure enough to say what he wants and know that it won’t get used against him, or worse, laughed at. “Your…” he trails off.

Steve nips at his lower lip playfully. “My what?”

Bucky whimpers. “Your mouth.”

Steve moves his hand, loosely circling Bucky’s dick. Bucky gasps and his hips lift almost on reflex, a sudden rush of pleasure heating him from head to toe.

“You want it on your cock?” Steve asks, pushing his thighs apart and settling between them.

Bucky bites his lip. “N- no.”

Steve’s answering smile is delighted and he scooches down, trails kisses across Bucky’s thigh. He’s scenting him and seeing Steve enjoy that as much as he does makes Bucky’s heart sing. Fuck, this man is perfect. 

He’s pulled out of his reverie by Steve saying, “You want it on your cunt, baby?”

“Fuck!” He thwacks his head back on the pillow, hand reaching desperately until he can grasp Steve’s hair. “Yeah, I do- Ahh!”

He’s cut off by the broad swipe of Steve’s tongue, suddenly shifting down the bed as Steve grabs at his ass to bring him closer to his mouth. It’s filthy, it’s possessive and Bucky knows it’s going to be over before he wants it to be. He thinks it’s always going to be that way when he has the sight of Steve between his legs, clearly enjoying himself. 

“Jesus, you taste sweet,” Steve murmurs, hooking one of Bucky’s thighs over his shoulder and keeping him open. “Such a good ‘mega, Buck. Letting me eat out this pretty hole of yours.” 

Bucky can feel how slick he is, can feel that he’s soaked. His body is lit up with pleasure and he knows it’s not going to last long. He squeals as he feels Steve fuck him with his tongue, thighs tensing up in anticipation. “Fuck, I’m not- Alpha, I… I’m not going to last, ‘m gonna- I wanna...”

“Give it up, Buck,” Steve growls, rubbing the rough of his beard against Bucky’s thighs. “Let me have it.”

And he… He does.

Bucky’s spine arches off the bed as he comes, gasping out Steve’s name. It’s the only word he seems to know, to remember. Everything else is insignificant.

He doesn’t pass out, not quite, but it’s a while before he feels like he can function. He’s aware of Steve moving around him, doesn’t resist when he’s lifted so that Steve can pull the covers up over him.

Finally he squirms, leans his head back to kiss Steve’s chin.

Steve’s tone is warm. “Back with me?”

“Ish,” Bucky says, yawns again. 

Steve’s fingers are brushing through his hair, comforting, and Bucky nuzzles into his chest. “Did I hurt you?”

“Nope,” he answers honestly. “I just… I sound like a brat but I really want you to fuck me. I’m exhausted. And my hair's still wet.” 

Steve chuckles and Bucky feels him press a kiss to his hair. “Sweetheart, we’ve got all the time in the world for that. Now let me towel-dry your hair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe we're at Chapter 16 already? I'm so not ready let these two go even though I've started writing my fic for ShrunkyClunks Bang (and I'm hugely struggling with it which is a massive URGH).
> 
> Comments and kudos are forever appreciated. I'm so glad you guys love these guys as much as I do.
> 
> Please come talk to me at [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/). Anon asks on TWIFFY are totally allowed!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always, always loved.
> 
> Come talk to (or yell at) me on [my tumblr](https://becassine.tumblr.com/)!


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